


He was a Payne, She a Stark

by Royal_Darjeeling



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fix-It, Friendship/Love, Missing Scene, Pod and Gendry becoming bros, Slow Burn, Starks Supporting Starks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-02-10 22:12:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 88,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18669382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Royal_Darjeeling/pseuds/Royal_Darjeeling
Summary: His Lannister red jerkin, his southern accent, his name – Payne, the same name that took the life of her father. He was so overwhelmingly southern that Sansa had taken to avoiding him at all cost.Until one day she couldn't.





	1. Miles from King's Landing

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for clicking on this story. I thought I had given up writing fanfiction for good but there was just so little Sansa x Podrick fics I couldn't help myself.
> 
> This started as a one-shot from episode 8x03 that I felt like I had to write a backstory for and here I am. The story already has an ending. However, it may be added to following the events of the final few episodes if it does inspire me - or maybe even a sequel?
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

**SANSA**

* * *

She’d never get used to the cold. Well, at least it felt that way. Maybe it was all the time she had spent in the south, or maybe it was the Tully blood in her, but regardless she found herself drawing her cloak in closer to her. She was supposed to be a Northener, a Northener in her own lands. She felt like a traitor. In many more way than feeling the cold.

Defeated, Sansa took to staring into the fire, hoping that there would be no snowfall again that night. Another night in the freezing harsh snows would break the spirit she had tried so long to hold on to. She wished so desperately to feel warmth again. She tried to remember her father’s voice, picturing what he would say to her if he could. He would have held her close, warming her up with his own heat. He’d utter something along the lines of ‘you’ll get used to it’, never one for saying too many words. Yet his voice in her mind had long since lost the warmth and love that had forever filled it. Being exposed to monstrosities and ugliness would do that to a person, she presumed.

The fire was warm, but it failed to warm her spirits. Once more they had set up camp in a clearing in the cold damp forest, a warm fire in the centre as there only source of homeliness. They were scared at first that the smoke would attract Ramsey’s men to her location, but when they didn’t come the first night, or the second, the three of them had concluded that they had made enough progress that it had become safe to light the fire. Her rescuers still took turns to watch the camp however, the swordswoman was already asleep on her bed roll while she awaited the swap of shifts. The other, the young man, was lingering around the treeline, scrounging for food or anything interesting by the sounds of his constant shuffling.

It had been three nights since Theon left her company, and three nights had not been enough to make her comfortable with her rescuers. Brienne of Tarth, the tall lady who reminded her of Arya’s spirit, was not the most welcoming of people. She was fair and kind, and Sansa felt no danger from her but the two were miles apart in interests, life and experiences to have anything to talk about. She knew nothing of swords, and Brienne knew nothing of needlework. The only thing they could converse on was the past, but both tried to avoid any such conversations at all costs. Instead there was a respected silence, uneasy but not altogether inhospitable.

The young squire on the other hand did nothing but talk and that unnerved her. He never spoke to her however, always to Lady Brienne but he never stopped, like he was constantly nervous. In King’s Landing the two of them had not conversed other than the odd pleasantry, before her rescue she had completely forgotten the sound of his voice. She had taken no notice of him her entire time there, like he was part of the castle and not a person, yet here he was now, her protector. Sansa would never stop feeling guilty about that. While Podrick’s chatting was a welcome change from Brienne’s silence, his constant reminder of his link to her past was difficult. His Lannister red jerkin, his southern accent, his name – _Payne_ , the same name that took the life of her father. He was so overwhelmingly southern that Sansa had taken to avoiding him at all cost.

Which was precisely why she had given off a long sigh when she saw him plodding up to the fire in front of her. Clearly his search for something to preoccupy himself while he took the first watch had been a failure.

“My Lady,” Pod nodded politely, unable to meet her eyes. He always was a shy one.

“Podrick.” She replied with malice. It was late, she was tired and cold, and been through a nightmare. Sansa was no longer preoccupied with the thoughts of being a polite lady.

He moved to stoke the fire, crouching down close for the warmth, his cheeks beginning to pinken. “It’s getting late, you should try and sleep, we have many miles to travel tomorrow.”

His words were lost on her. If she could sleep, she would be doing. It wasn’t that simple. She was also well aware of the distance they had yet to travel to reach their destination. It was her country after all, she knew how many miles it was from Winterfell to the Wall. The unsolicited advice had offended her and she did not care to think that he didn’t mean to harm her.

“Yes, I know.” She replied just as stoically. His presence was not welcome here, even the sound of his breathing annoyed her.

Then, in a rare moment of social courage she had never seen him possess, Podrick’s eyes fired towards her. Locking on to own in a way that both calmed her and made her feel guilty. Like that of a small child that had been betrayed by a parent. It only lasted a second before he stood up once more and began to move away.

“Sorry, my lady. I did not mean to bother you.” He concluded, as polite and humble as ever. He made a start towards the treeline, ready to continue his watch for the night.

But the impact still lingered. He had tried to be kind and all she had done was be rude. He had been hurt by her tone; she had the power to do that, she had power over him despite the fact he wielded a sword and knew how to use it. Podrick was not someone to be afraid of, if anything, he was afraid of her. The thought of that alone was enough to make Sansa feel comfortable, for the first time in what was years, Sansa recognised she was in control. It had only taken one look. One look and Sansa Stark found herself trusting a member of the Payne family.

“Podrick.” She reluctantly called after him. She imagined Robb in her mind, scolding her for showing any sort of kindness towards him but she pushed it back, choosing instead to do the just thing she knew in her heart to be correct. She was a lady after all and he her sworn sword, it was her duty to be respectful.

“Yes, my lady?” He spun on his heel boyishly, a friendly smile appearing on his face that quickly disappeared. His unrelenting will to serve her had already forgiven her for her rudeness only moments before.

He always had been kind to her. In King’s Landing he would slip her extra lemon cakes onto her plate whenever he was serving them. If ever she was in the presence of a kingsguard he had taken to placing himself in between them, shielding her view as best he could. He’d always give her sweetened wine without asking, despite if all the others in her company chose something stronger. She may not have appreciated it at the time, but Sansa found herself quickly remembering all the little things he had ever done for her, only making herself feel more guilt.

Sansa thought about her mother, what she would say in the situation, what a lady should say to her subject. “I just wanted to thank you for rescuing me. From what I can tell you have travelled a great deal and faced many dangers.”

She watched cautiously as he walked back over to the fire, and immediately sat down opposite her, his arms outstretched towards the heat. Years ago, he would not have been so bold, he had changed, and Sansa knew it. She watched him carefully, his eyes locked on the fire. He was no longer a boy; he was a man. A man that could wield a sword, a man that would fight for her, a man that could speak to her without fumbling his words. If only Lord Tyrion could see him now, he would have been so proud of him.

“We’ve both come a long way from King’s Landing, my lady.” He mumbled thoughtfully before his eyes once more shot to meet her's in a panic. “Forgive me, I spoke out of turn.”

Sansa smirked at his familiar apprehension. He never was a bold man, and from his actions Sansa guessed that he never would be. Not to her anyway. Then again, she never thought he’d be able to speak to her without blushing profusely yet here they are.

They had both changed, him for the better, her for the worse. He was brave, courageous and humble. All she had become was broken. A broken woman, a shadow of her former self. She had not been smart, she had acted foolishly, trusted the wrong people. Rape, murder, horror – she had experienced it all. Long gone was the girl she had left in King’s Landing, innocent and full of life. In her place stood a ghost, only living as it was her duty, living for the ones she had lost.

“No, that’s alright. You are correct.” She sighed once more, her shoulders dropping as the tension she did not know she had been holding left her body. For the first time since she had escaped from Winterfell, she found herself relaxing.

Podrick smiled brightly, taking her words as an invitation to continue speaking. “So much has changed. It’s hard to think that only a couple of years ago I would have been serving you wine by the fire while Lord Tyrion was away… now I can only offer you melted snow.”

Sansa has not given much thought to Tyrion since she left King’s Landing. The last she had heard he had been put on trial for a death she knew he did not commit, but she had not heard another official word since. She used to think that he was the worst thing to have happened to her, a shameful punishment for her father’s false accusation. She now realised he was the best of them. Never did he force himself on her, never did he use her as a political pawn, never did he raise a hand to her. Yet, he was probably dead now, like all good men.

“He was always kind to me. There are not many kind men left in this world.” She replied solemnly.

If only she had stayed with him instead of leaving with Lord Baelish, maybe things would have been better. She’d have been put on trial with him, she presumed. If she were to be pardoned, she could continue living there until she could figure out her own way to escape. If she were to be executed, at least she would not have experienced Ramsay Bolton. Either way, both of those existences would be better than her current one.

“He escaped you know. The Kingslayer got him out.”

Sansa could tell by the tone of his voice that as shocking as his statement was, he believed it wholeheartedly. She had heard rumours from Littlefinger that he had escaped, and she knew them to be true from the lack of news about his execution. However, she had not heard a whisper about the role of Jaime Lannister in that escape, nor did she believe it. In her opinion, there was no way that Ser Jaime Lannister would betray his family name, not even for Tyrion.

“I heard rumours. They are true then?” She raised her eyebrows, willing him to tell her what he knew. She was curious, and from what she knew about Podrick, he was not stupid. There was more to this story than she knew and she was eager to hear it.

“From what I can tell. I was already long gone by the time it happened. The Kingslayer forced Lady Brienne to take me for my own protection,” He trailed off, as if in deep thought about the past. “I know it was him though, I just know it.” He continued earnestly.

Podrick cared for Lord Tyrion, that much was clear. She had never given any thought to the relationship that had formed between her once husband and his squire. Podrick had a deep respect for a man, and a fondness one only has towards a parent. Tyrion was good to him, and Podrick rewarded him with his loyalty. Their friendship was so much more than a duty.

His sincerity however was not enough to convince Sansa of the truth. There was nothing on this earth that would make Jaime Lannister go again his sister. Nothing, not even death.

“Well, I doubt it. Tyrion is smart enough to get out on his own. Besides, Jaime would never betray Cersei.” She surprised herself at the ease at which she replied to him. Like she was bickering with her sister, or with Jeyne.

She had not had a conversation so pure and without hidden meanings in a very long time. There were no politics here, just two people conversing. No ulterior motives, no power plays, no threat. Not even when she was speaking with her youthful, sweet cousin did she feel she could speak so freely. Podrick gave her no threat, he had no political power, he had no title. All he had was a sword which he had learnt how to swing but Sansa very much doubted he would use it. Nothing she could say to him could bring a threat to her life, and the thought was refreshing.

“Maybe. He’s alive though, that much I’m certain.” Podrick turned back to the fire with a furrowed brow.

Sansa presumed he was thinking about what his former master was up to now, still she thought he was dead. If he was alive though, she was certain he would be drinking wine, potentially inside of a brothel. If he was feeling truly at peace, he may even have a book at hand. But he didn’t, Sansa knew he didn’t. She shouldn’t dwell on the thought, thinking about his death would achieve nothing. If she thought about every person who had died in her life she’d have no time to survive but she couldn’t help it.

“And many more are not.” She murmured, her mind betraying her and the thoughts of her father came flooding into her memory. She remembered what the sky looked like on that day, so blue and clear. She remembered the look in Ser Payne’s eyes just before her dealt the blow, cold and blood thirsty, like he was a beast whose only purpose was to execute. The blood on the weapon and the block. The blood of her father. That day was the worst day of her life, more terrible than everything that had happened afterwards. The old Sansa Stark died that day with her father, she just did not realise it.

Almost as if he could see into her thoughts, Podrick stood up once more from the fire and turned towards her, his head bowed in respect. “I’m sorry about what my cousin did, my lady. Forgive me for speaking boldly but I regret never telling you that when we knew each other before.”

An apology was never expected, and it certainly taken her by surprise. As tears rushed to her eyes, threatening to fall, it dawned on her that Sansa never thought she would receive one, and certainly not one as genuine as Podrick’s. He probably had never met the man he shared a family name with, he was only a son of a lesser son after all, yet here he was respectfully apologising to her like it was his crime. The sincerity had rendered her speechless.

“Thank you.” She somehow managed to stammer out, her mind searching for a more suitable response to make.

She should tell him that she had never held that against him but that would be a lie. She had done, and she will continue to do. He was a Payne, just like she was a Stark. Their family names spoke more for themselves that their actions and will do till the end of the Seven Kingdoms. To tell him anything otherwise would be a lie and she did not feel like she could lie to him.

“Of course, my lady.” Podrick sounded relieved, like a great weight had been lifted. He truly meant it when he said he’d been waiting a long time to tell her. “You really should try and sleep though, it will help you forget about the cold.” 

With a warm smile that Sansa was quickly learning was reflective of his personality, so _Podrick_ , he returned towards the tree line. She was stunned, so very stunned that the most insignificant of people could have such a profound affect on her. For so long he had been irrelevant, merely a boy who served her wine and followed her late husband around. Now he was a man grown, brave and honest, and he had given her the greatest gift she had every received. She had not expected it; it had come from the most unlikely of sources. He was a Payne, and she was a Stark, yet she found herself having a fondness towards him she could only explain as true gratitude.

At that though, Robb would be turning in his grave, _if he even had one_.


	2. Miles from Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in 6x05. 
> 
> This is the only chapter in this story I'm not quite happy with - I found the balance between Sansa's cold exterior and the girl she is inside we see on occasion hard to write in this scene.

* * *

**PODRICK**

* * *

When Lady Brienne told him they were leaving to the Riverlands he was shocked. Just as shocked as she had been when she had been ordered, he presumed from the fiery glint behind her eyes. They were to pack their bags, make for Riverrun with haste and attempt to persuade the Blackfish to join Lady Sansa’s cause. While the job was imperative, potentially leading to a vital ally to her campaign, Podrick was perplexed why the task had fallen upon him. He was not terribly calculated, he did not claim to know politics, but he knew that a player should never leave themselves unguarded, and that was precisely what Lady Stark was doing. They were her sworn swords, she had no others, the rest of their allies all Jon’s. To leave her vulnerable to the Boltons, to any man looking to have his way with a pretty girl, did not seem like the most logical idea. But still, Podrick had to comply as it was an order, and he was there to serve. 

His confusion, however, exceeded concern for her wellbeing, for Podrick was also unsure what the task would mean to him. For months they had search for her, fought for her and accompanied her that the thought of leaving her made him feel lost. For so long she had been the purpose, to find her and then to protect her, so long that it felt like it was engrained into his character; Podrick lived to serve Sansa Stark, to leave her service (albeit momentarily) did not feel right - it fact, it made him feel sick.

Podrick dwelled on the subject through his training that day, often misstepping and getting a scolding from his mentor, but he couldn’t quite shake off the feeling of uneasiness he had. It was as if his gut was telling him not to leave, that there was so many foes around her waiting to pounce. Criminals who had joined the black, wild folk who knew no boundaries…Littlefinger. Lady Brienne had told him about the arrival of Littlefinger to Castle Black, her face had been tense and emotionless. As far as he had heard, Lord Baelish had arrived in secret to pledge himself to Lady Stark, promising men and horses in exchange for her friendship. Yet, he did not trust him, not in the slightest. It was one of the first lessons Lord Tyrion had ever taught him, and he wouldn’t forget it in a hurry. Lord Baelish was slippery, sly and up to no good. Sansa Stark needed protecting now more than ever.

Infuriatingly, he could not do anything about it. An order was an order, he went wherever Lady Brienne went, and Podrick had accepted that he could not change the situation. He wished so desperately to speak with her, to make her see reason yet he could not. While he did not doubt her mind, trusting completely the political prowess she seemed to display, he could not doubt what he was feeling. Yet he could not tell her, there was neither time nor opportunity for him to do so, and besides, he would be too afraid to do anyway. Maybe one day when he was a Ser he’d be brave enough to challenge the order but he certainly didn’t feel that at present.

Reluctantly he had taken to putting all his effort into his daily tasks, preoccupying his mind from all the uncertain thoughts that plagued it. Despite, the pouring rain outside, Podrick had to ready the horses for their long journey - cleaning their shoes, brushing their hides – and he had chosen not to wait for the rain to cease for him to do so, desperate for a distraction. The rain was like ice, freezing him to the core as he went about his chores, his hair and clothes quickly becoming sodden. He did not care if he caught a chill, the job needed to be done and he needed to put his mind at easy. The extra sleep he would have in the morning along with the peace he felt in that moment was enough to risk forming a cold. The castle walls provided some shelter from the shower and he begun to work on their faithful companions. The shoes were quick to fix, their horses already been re-shoed upon their arrival to Castle Black, thus he only had to remove the mud and dirt that had become stuck there. He moved on to cleaning their hides, each horse seeming to appreciate the brush their master gave them. Once he had finished the first horse, he moved onto the second, treating the skin with as much delicacy as he would a child. It was then that he saw her, crossing the courtyard, the rain heavy against her face. 

She was in no hurry, her pace slow despite the piercing cold rain coming from above. From what he could distinguish, she had come from her temporary chambers, crossing over to where he knew the great hall stood, along with the largest of fires to occupy Castle Black. Instantly, Podrick found himself drawn to the woman, watching closely in interest of what she would do, the voice in the back of his mind telling him to warn her. Every bit of him was screaming at him not to, reminding him he was neither her adviser nor her friend. It was not his place to speak to her so openly, yet he found himself wanting so badly to do so. His brushing came to a stop as he froze, focusing on the steady breathing of the horse underneath his hands, matching his own to it. Then, surprising himself in the moment and without truly thinking, he decided to act.

Following his gut, Pod left the horse he was attending to, threw down the brush he was using and hurried off after the girl without a second thought. The rain he had been mainly sheltered from hit him instantly, sending a deep chill running throughout his body. He moved towards her with haste, careful not to slip on the ground that was beginning to turn into mud.

“My lady!” He called out after her, not caring about the proper place of a squire at that moment. He was too preoccupied with the feeling of trepidation to think about what was right and what was wrong.

Sansa halted, turning to look at him with a slight smile on her face. Otherwise, her expression was haughty, like a woman on the verge of a completing a masterful plan. Podrick did not feel any intimidation from her stance, choosing to view her waiting for him as an invitation to speak. While it was not fitting of a lady and a squire to be friends, there was definitely a sense of appreciation the two had for each other that only two people who shared a similar ordeal would have. They’d been on the road together, frightened, for the best part of two months. They’d become comfortable, the closest thing to friends a lady and a squire could be.

“Podrick.” She nodded politely, the pouring rain not bothering her in the slightest.

Her reply stopped him dead in his track, only yards in front of her, like a sudden rush of reality of what he was doing. Instantly he became aware of the eyes that were on him, the men in black all being somewhat aware of who she was and what he was. He shouldn’t be speaking to her so freely, it was wrong and above his station. Lady Brienne would scold him into next week if she found out. But here he was, and the impatient look growing upon her face at his prolonged silence was frightening.

Somehow, somewhere deep in his brain he managed to string together some words to make a coherent sentence.

“We - we are to leave you?” He stumbled, his mind considering each word as if they were foreign.

Her stoic look was replaced with a bright smile as she took a step closer to him. She appeared grateful to see him, and amused at his words, like she had already heard it all before and had predicated it. If she could sense the eyes upon them, she cared not to pay them any attention. He supposed it was easier for her, she had the power, she had the connections. If anyone was to question their friendship it would be him that would be heavily critiqued, his livelihood at risk. Lady Sansa on the other hand would come away only with a damaged reputation that was easily remedied.

“Yes. Did Lady Brienne not inform you?” Sansa raised her eyebrow, knowing for certain that Brienne had already told him. Her eyes glistened with amusement at the situation.

Podrick felt his words stick in the back of his throat. Even her kind smile made him nervous. His hair begun to drip water down his face which he quickly wiped away with his shaking hands.

Gulping, he forced himself to speak once more, “she did, my lady. I just – It's just –“

“Yes Podrick?” She cut him off curtly, her smile gone.

No longer was she a young woman greeting a friend, she was a lady beginning to tire from his relentless stammering. He was certain that she was not angry at him, not yet anyway, but he was treading on thin ice. Sansa Stark did not react well to unsolicited advice anymore. Podrick knew he was beginning to test her patience, but he had to say his piece, he’d regret it if not.

“I pledged to serve you, my lady. To protect you.” He chose his words carefully. He did not want to insult, nor overstep any boundaries. Podrick could not imagine anything worse than upsetting her, he would do anything in his power to make sure he never did.

However, despite his best efforts his words were met by a sigh. While his heart was in the right place, the lady did not seem to have reacted well to his attempted lecture. Sansa’s eyes gave the drowned looking man a once over, like she was judging him completely. Podrick felt himself shirking under her gaze. He wondered what she was thinking, whether she thought he was too far below her station to give her advice, whether she thought he was too stupid to understand what he was discussing. Whatever her thoughts were, he sensed that they were not good.

“You are serving me by going to see my Uncle.” She spoke clearly, allowing every word to resonate in him. Yet her temper did not rise, instead her words were calm, serving as a warning to him not to push the matter further.

Without any acknowledgment, Sansa turned away from him, continuing her walk inside to the hall and the warmth, clearly not wishing to speak about the matter any longer. Podrick was unsure if that was the end of the conversation, unsure whether she was requesting him to follow her footsteps or not. Her words were conclusive, cautioning him to stop, but they had not been final. With one last look around the damp courtyard, Podrick decided that once more he would be brave. He could feel it in his gut, the sense of dread spurring him into action. He had never been a superstitious man per say, but he did believe in trusting instincts at all cost, even if that meant compromising his position. Quickly he rushed after her, his legs struggling to keep up with her long elegant strides. Swiftly she disappeared into the hall, leaving the door open behind her in anticipation of his pursuit. She could read him like a book, or maybe he was just predictable.

Podrick stayed silent as he entered the room, his body grateful to be out of the freezing rain. He closed the heavy door behind him to keep the cold out, his body shivering. It was only when he secured the latch that Podrick realised the extent of his situation - the room was empty, the door closed behind them. His face flushed at the thought, it was inappropriate, he shouldn’t have followed. He debated opening the door again, he thought about leaving the room completely, but either of those actions would make him look more of a fool than he already did. With one last deep breath, Podrick turned towards the room to face reality.

Sansa had situated herself by the roaring fire. Her eyes fixated upon it like they had done every night they had been on the road to Castle Black. Despite her youth and her kindness, Podrick was reminded in that moment that she was a lady, and far mightier than he could even dream of being.

“I appreciate your concern, but Brienne needs you and I need you to accompany her.” She stated sombrely without turning to address him.

No longer did she appear to be a woman scorned, instead she appeared dejected and deep in thought. Strangely, Podrick found the sight rather welcoming. While he was certainly anxious at the thought of being alone with her, Podrick sensed that she did not want him to leave, as if she was waiting for him to address her. He wasn’t sure what that implied, but he took her silence and lack of annoyance as a sign to speak.

“Lady Brienne doesn’t need me,” He mumbled nervously, coming up beside her. “I’m just a squire.”

If ever there was a knight that did not need a squire, it was Lady Brienne. She was more than capable of functioning without him, and many times he had thought she would actually prefer that to his company. Their relationship was an odd one, the two of them had been thrown together for his convivence and he had yet to feel he had made her sacrifice for him worthwhile. She criticised him constantly as he was continually making mistakes, he had yet to master the skill of fighting and was far from it. He could ride a horse though, that was the only major improvement he had made since he had left King’s Landing but that did not make their partnership worthwhile. He was a dud, a stupid fool that was a slow learner. Lady Brienne certainly did not need him.

Upon his words, her eyes found his and for a moment he felt like he would melt under the pressure. It was piercing and resilient, like she knew everything and wanted him to know it.  If only she knew how intimidating she was, she could take over the entire world with just that look.

She turned to face him completely, her expression genuine. “You are much more than that, Podrick. Don’t you ever forget that.”

Podrick was unsure what she meant by that, but he appreciated the comment nonetheless. He knew he was just a squire, and an old one at that, and there was no amount of words from anyone that would change his mind. Yet he knew she believed it - he could tell by the authentic tone in her voice. Or maybe she was a just good liar, Podrick had not yet got a full comprehension on just who Sansa Stark was.

“My lady.” Podrick replied politely, the blush creeping even further up his face.

Sansa smirked at his obvious embarrassment, making his blush even more prominent. Podrick felt like he was part of an exhibit, like every fibre of his being was on show for her to see. She could tell what he was thinking and knew what he would do next. He felt like she knew all his embarrassing secrets, knew about every awkward thought he had ever had. Sansa had him completely under her spell, so overwhelmed by the situation that all he could do was stand there like a tongue-tied fool. She was so intimidating without even trying, Podrick could only imagine the wonders she will achieve when she did.

She moved to sit down in the chair beside the fire before she continued, “and come back safe, House Stark is not done with you yet. We’ll have need of you soon.” Her words were automatic, almost as if she knew she had to say it, like it was rehearsed.

“Yes, my lady.”

She sighed, falling back into her chair, her back pressed against the support like her guard had suddenly fell. Podrick was reminded of the girl he had once known him King’s Landing, a girl lost and afraid who had not yet been broken by the world. She’d been holding up the façade all day, only showing the odd glimpse to what was lurking underneath her cold surface. Instead here she was, unapologetically herself, letting the barrier of her position waste away for a moment. Pod was honoured to witness it.

“I wish you would stop calling me that, I don’t much feel like a lady anymore.” Sansa huffed playfully, speaking to him as she would a friend, like she was back in Winterfell before she ever left.

Her mood was contagious; Pod was reminded that he too used to be young and green, so full of life and humour before this world had stripped it away. Once, many moons ago, he was not so weary of the world, his mind never dwelling on his mortality or who may wish to kill him next. Things were easier then, and far more enjoyable. Maybe he was being stupid, or maybe he was being brave, but Pod decided he was going to take her up on the offer of being children again, if only for a moment. 

“No, my lady.” He replied unsure, his eyes flickering to hers to gage her response. She was his lady after all, he did not want to step out of line.

Sansa replied in less than a second, accepting his playful banter.

“If you have sworn an oath to serve me shouldn’t you follow my orders?” Her eyebrow raised, her face holding back a grin. He could tell she was enjoying this, so was he.

“You didn’t order me.” He retorted, his eyes flickering with joy. Podrick tried his best to reflect Lord Tyrion’s wit but he was sure he failed to replicate it exactly. Instead he knew he was beaming like an idiot, his tone far from sarcastic.

Sansa was pleased with his response, her mouth pursing as she searched her brain for a witty response. Her eyes shone brighter than he had ever saw them.

“ _Well_ , then I order you to stop calling me that.” Sansa let out a small laugh, her brows rising high on her forehead.

“No, my lady.” Podrick teased gently, feeling the boldest he’d ever felt in her presence. He tipped his head slightly before he resumed, “that wouldn’t be proper.”

Sansa snickered at his response, her eyes lowering to the floor between them. For a moment they were left in silence, basking in the light-hearted atmosphere in the room. Neither of them had felt so carefree in a long time. They were bickering like old friends, like people who had known each other all their lives – but they had been, Podrick was a part of her childhood just as much she was his. They had grown up together with little interaction, like two people separated by a thick pane of glass their entire lives, unable to speak or communicate but sensitive of the other’s presence. Sansa Stark was the closest thing he had to a childhood friend, and he suspected the wars may have had made him hers.

Yet all good things must come to an end, and the two of them grew weary of their situation once more. Podrick’s smile fell from his face, remembering the long list of errands he had to finalise for his journey before the days end. He was to leave her on the morrow, and he was leaving her in a pit of vipers. From the solemn expression in her face, Podrick assumed that she too had reached the same conclusion.

“I don’t think any of that really matters anymore.” Sansa murmured, finishing the conversation despite it being long over. The jovial mood in the air completely dissipating at her words, her thoughts clearly deep in the past and on the looming battle ahead of them.

They were reminded that they were no longer just a girl and a boy, cheerfully teasing each other as friends should do. They were changed, they had grown up, there was more important issues at hand. Long gone was the Stark who wanted to marry a prince, so too was the Payne that wanted so badly to be a knight. They were both dead and gone, buried in King’s Landing miles away.

“Still,” Podrick gulped, wishing so badly for the mood to return when he knew it wouldn’t. She was the Stark heir, it was time for her to go back to acting like one. “Goodby, my lady, safe travels.” 

“Goodbye Podrick.” Her reply was solemn, her mind wandering from him towards the mission at hand.

Podrick gave her one last glance, admiring the forlorn woman and her formidable strength. Gone was the childish light in her eyes, replaced with one of foreboding and danger. She had people to lead, a battle to win, a region to win over. Sansa would do more significant deeds in the coming months than he would expect of his whole life. He was far below her in every sense of the word - his position, his intelligence, his worth. Despite her reassurance of his importance, Podrick was reminded of his status, completely in awe of witnessing her contemplations. She was a leader, her mind brilliant; she was far greater than he would ever be.

He took his leave, departing the room calmly, conscious to not raising any suspicions as to what he had been up to alone in a room with his lady. He did not wish to ruin her reputation, let alone his selfish despites to not be scorned for his actions. Quickly he made his way across the yard, pulling his cloak closer to him as he attempted not to throw a suspicious glance around to see if anyone had been watching him. The cold rain drenched him once more as he pondered their meeting, praying to the old Gods and the new that they’d be alive when they saw each other next. One day perhaps, in the distant future, they could speak like this again - with no care in the world, with no need to be prim and proper. Just a Payne and a Stark, a boy and a girl, talking as friends without any need to worry. But Podrick knew that day would never come, not in this life.

 


	3. Miles from the Riverlands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre Season 7. Set after Brienne and Pod return to Winterfell after their trip to the Riverlands.

* * *

**SANSA**

* * *

Down in the depts of the castle, Sansa Stark marched along the corridors hastily, desperate to be as far away from the kitchens as possible. It was her duty as Lady of the Castle to organise all the feast days of the calendar - to plan the meals, to organise the mead. Once, she had admired her mother for doing so, finding the work honourable and essential. Now it was just dull, a task bestowed upon her simply for being a woman. It angered her but it was her duty to do it, and Sansa had found the trick to doing it was to do it quickly.

Passing by the stores, Sansa continued her stride towards her living quarters, not feeling at ease despite being in her family home. As a child she had rarely been in the kitchens, the hub of the servant quarters, and when she had it was only for Speta Mordane’s domestic lessons. She knew what was down there though, it was the duty of a Lady to know what provisions her castle had. The kitchen, the wood store, the pantry, the larder, the wardrobe; she counted the rooms as she walked past, paying no attention to the rooms’ activities. It was only when she saw the familiar sight of a red jerkin that she paid any attention. There was only one man who wore that shade of red in the entire castle.

Sansa knew her faithful subject was back, she had spoken to Lady Brienne the day previously getting a detailed report of her time in the Riverlands, but she had not given much thought to him until she saw him then. It dawned on her how much she had missed him, a silent presence reminding her of kindness and protection. A boy she could be a girl with, an old acquaintance who had shared so much of her story. _A friend_ , Sansa thought, _as much as a friend a squire could be to a lady_.

He was sitting in the section of the wardrobe where shoes were repaired, a pair of black boots that were clearly not his own placed on his lap.  He was polishing them, carefully treating the leather and all its crevices like it was the most precious item in the world. Sansa wondered how many times a week he needed to do such a thing, it shamed her that she did not know the answer. A pair of boots appeared for her each day, she never put any thought into the work of her servants to put them there. 

The sun in the south had been kind to him, his skin bronzed slightly like the men of Dorne. His hair was longer, much longer than before. A patchy beard had formed on his face, not yet a man’s but certainly close. One day he would grow it out proper, it suited him, and she was sure women would prefer it. _She preferred it_ , but Sansa chose not to dwell on such a thought. 

Sansa’s eyes scanned the room for any other servants before she decided to walk into it, determined to speak with the squire while there was a quiet moment to do so. While she did not care for the tradition that said a lady should not converse with a squire, at such a precarious time within the politics of the North, she did not want any misdemeanour to be used against her.

“Your hair is longer.” She smirked, already predicting the affect her words would have on him. While a man grown, he had certainly not grown out of his need to blush at any word she spoke to him.

Spooked, Podrick flew up from his seat, the boots falling unceremoniously to the ground, his eyes wide in shock. Clearly, he had not expected to be addressed by anyone. Sansa presumed that the servants might keep away from him as technically he was a foreigner there. However, when he saw it was his lady, his face softened, and the familiar redness crept its way onto his face.

He cleared his throat before speaking, his hands, still holding the brush and polish, glued to his sides. “Forgive me my lady, I had no time to cut it.”

Sansa wished to compliment him, to tell him the length suited him, that it made him look like a knight. Yet she couldn’t, it wasn’t proper. Besides, if she chose to pay the squire such a compliment, she was certain he would stop breathing. Podrick had always been modest, to compliment his appearance would probably send the poor man into shock. Still, the thought amused her.

“It’s different.” Sansa gave him the once over with her eyes, enjoying his reaction. He was fun to tease.

The blush intensified on his face at the mention of his appearance. While her words were neutral, Sansa was sure he knew she had meant that in a positive way. He wouldn’t be blushing so violently if not.

Placing the brush and the polish onto his seat, Podrick relaxed slightly under her gaze. Remembering his place, his arms clasped behind his back, ready to serve.

“May I help you, my lady?” He spoke softly, his eyes filled with the kindness she had grown to appreciate greatly. 

It was Sansa’s turn to become frazzled, yet she was much better than hiding it than Podrick. Truth was she had no reason for being there. She was there simply because she wanted to speak with him. But Sansa did not feel like admitting that to him in that moment. Maybe one day when she felt a little braver, but that day she felt was far away.

She thought about lying, making up some task she had for him, but she couldn’t think of anything. Instead she settled on speaking to him as she would a friend.

“How was your trip?” She asked coolly, her steady expression never changing. 

Receiving the message, Podrick’s stance relaxed, his arms coming back to his side. A grin appeared on his face that was so brilliantly Podrick that it made Sansa instantly feel warm.

“I did a lot of rowing.” His eyes brimmed with joy at his witty remark. Somehow in the many years from King’s Landing he had gained a sense of humour. 

Sansa found herself holding back a laugh at his statement but she allowed herself to smile. She was certainly not expecting him to reply so simply. He’d been in the hands of danger, surrounded by soldiers many of whom were from his homelands yet all he chose to comment on was his rowing. He never ceased to amaze her.

A moment of silence fell between them, the two were basking in the light-hearted atmosphere, enjoying being youthful. She wished she could forever be like this, so free and careless, something she was quickly finding he could make her feel in an instant, but she knew it couldn’t last. Everything that was good died in this world. Including her uncle.

Sansa’s thoughts turned to the Blackfish. She had never met the man, she had only heard stories, yet she still felt saddened by the news of his death. Her mother had loved the man dearly, her father had always spoke highly of him. The thought of him coming to Winterfell, to her aid, to know him, was one she hoped would come true. He was one of the last links left to her parents that she had, the others beside Jon were either missing or imprisoned.

“What was he like, my uncle?” Sansa stared at him curiously, desperately awaiting his answer. 

In her mind he was like her father, quiet but kind. She imagined him to have gentle eyes that came with a quick temper, but he saved all his aggression for the battlefield. He would always wear armour, forever ready for battle. His knowledge of politics only adequate as he did not care for it, instead he favoured loyalty and justice, a welcome change that would have been to her court. Yet, she would never get to know him properly.

“He was brave, stubborn,” Podrick appeared to choose his words carefully, aware of the importance of them to her. “Every bit the knight you would expect.”

“Yet another good man lost.” Sansa’s voice trembled slightly, her expression saddened at the thought of such a chivalrous man being taken by the harsh world they lived in.

She thought of her father, the fairest lord in the land, dead – executed for standing up for what was right. She thought of Robb, always mighty and ready to be a leader, betrayed and ridiculed all for falling in love. Then her brother Rickon, his innocence destroyed in one of Ramsey’s cruel games. Each one of them had been a light in such a dark world and each one of them had been destroyed by it. 

Sensing her sorrow, Podrick shifted uncomfortably on the spot. Sansa paid him little attention but from the corner of her eye she understood he was desperately searching for words to comfort her. His expression full of sympathy as he stared at her, his eyes gentle. The squire always had a deep empathy for the world around him that she did not understand at first but had grown to admire.

“By all means, my lady,” Podrick stepped closer to her, drawing her notice fully to him. His face betraying the nerves he must have felt speaking so openly to her. “There are many good men left in this world – your brother for one.”

Jon. Jon who she had been so cruel to, Jon who had repaid her by making her the Lady of Winterfell. The man who would lay down his life for the North if he had to, and Sansa was sure that time would come. He was every bit as noble as their father, and Sansa was anxious that his fate may be similar. The Stark men had a habit of being senseless, choosing what was right over what would let them live. Sansa suspected Jon would do the same.

“Good men are going to be lost fighting my cause.” She replied solemnly, her mind imagining the number of men who had already died for her. “I do wish I could fight instead, it’s all rather selfish." 

Her words were true. Years ago she would have thought nothing of the men who had fought for her family, brushing it aside as simply something men must do and that it was a way of life. There must have been hundreds dead in her childhood, thousands after Robb’s rebellion, and never had she given a thought to who they might have been, what they will have lost. But she had grown up since then and experienced the horrors life had to offer, those men were not disposable, and they did not deserve to look death in the face on behalf of her. They had families, livelihoods; they had a life to live that they had sacrificed for her family. Sansa would be forever thankful to those men now.

In some sudden bout of boldness, Podrick came to stand inches away from her, his eyes, only slightly higher than her own, boring into her as if they were desperate to tell her something. In many ways she felt intimidated, not by his closeness but by his overpowering benevolence. She felt herself shrink under his gaze, in awe of his sense of purpose.

“My lady. I fight for you because I want to, not because I’m ordered to. So are the others, they can all walk out of those gates easily if they did not believe in you.” He spoke calmly and quietly, like there was no truer words he could ever say. “I believe in you.” 

Sansa felt overwhelmed. She felt like crying. He was so close, so warm. His words he believed so strongly, his eyes full of kindness. He believed in her, as stupid as a thought as it was, he still did. Podrick, who was the gentlest person she knew, was willing to risk his life for her, because he trusted her. Sansa did not doubt his loyalty. She wanted desperately to accept his words, but she couldn’t for she knew they were not the truth. Those men did not fight for her, and if they did, they only did for her family name, it had nothing to do with her actions.

She sighed, defeatedly. “It’s Jon they fight for, not me.”

She knew she was right. He had the support of the Wildlings, their loyalty to him undying. The Northern lords had named him King in the North because they believed in him, not because of her. He had even died and come back to life, for some purpose she did not understand. Jon was overwhelmingly brilliant without trying, it was he the people loved, not her. However, Podrick seemed reluctant to backdown.

“They fight for the Starks. You are a Stark, my lady, through and through.” His expression was genuine, his smile faithful.

Sansa was unsure what he meant by that remark. She was far from the stoic man her father was, far from the ferocity of Robb, or the morals of Jon. She was just Sansa, a woman well versed in the politics of court, miles away from her roots. She had wanted to be a southerner, to marry the prince, to bask in the warm weather. While those days were long behind her they had left their mark. Even her looks separated her from her family name, in appearance she was a Tully, every bit her mother’s daughter, with her red hair and slender frame. She didn’t feel like a Stark in the slightest, she was an imposter, and to many she was. 

Officially, Sansa was simultaneously Sansa Stark, Sansa Lannister, and Sansa Bolton. Each of those names came with separate implications, and each one had its own believers. The only reason she had the Stark name at current was because she had chosen it, not because others had restored it. If she was in a precarious position, if anyone ever chose to question her place, the first thing they would use would be her name – whichever one they deemed the most destroying to her cause. She had seen the trouble a name had caused bastards like Ramsay and Joffrey, entire war campaigns had started as a result of their illegitimacy. While Sansa trusted the people in the North, she knew that her name would always provide a source of debate to friend and foe. 

“Some would say I’m a Bolton, others a Lannister.” She muttered in distain, her mind trying its hardest not to linger on the thought of her previous husbands.

Podrick’s eyebrows raised at the thought, almost as if he had forgotten about her past marriages despite himself being a large part of the first. He glanced away momentarily, his mind considering a response, before he gave her the broadest of smiles.

“Let them. You know you are not.” He shrugged, his logic un-calculated yet he trusted it wholeheartedly.

That was easier said than done. She knew his statement to be untrue but she wished she could believe it, if only for her own mental wellbeing. Yet Podrick was not dim-witted, maybe he was correct after all. Maybe all it took to convince others of her name was herself believing it, maybe that was all she needed to do. 

“You always make things sound so simple.” She pouted, her brow furrowing just as she would when she was a child. She so wished the world was easy to understand again, Sansa was tired of overthinking every last action of the people around her.

“Maybe they are, or maybe I’m just stupid.” He chuckled, the spell the two of them felt broke as he moved away.

He stumbled over to the boots he had discarded on the floor, picking them up and setting them neatly by his chair. His eyes continuously flittering back to her as he did so. Sansa started to feel the loss of his closeness, the sound of his breath, his warmth. Surprisingly she found herself wishing he would return close to her.

“I’m sure it’s the latter.” She murmured with a smirk, knowing it would not cause any offense. Podrick broke out into another one of his welcome grins, the mood in the air instantly lightening with his smile.

He turned his attention back to her, all thoughts he may have had about continuing his work abandoned. Sansa’s mind wondered to how boyish he looked, his hair unkempt, his smile easy. He stood proud despite his anxiousness speaking to her, his stance always akin to the knight he almost was. His shoulders had broadened significantly since King’s Landing, so had his arms. Surprising herself, Sansa found herself thinking of him as handsome, her teeth clenched at the thought she had never expected to have.

“If names were so important my lady, I’d be in the Westerlands right now, or fighting in the Lannister army. People come to your cause because you are named Stark, they stay because you are just and compassionate.” Podrick concluded without the gravitas and deepness as before. He simply stated it as fact, feeling no need to try and convince her of his words. 

Sansa had never given a thought about his past, not before the time she had met him in the capital. Never had she considered why he might have left his home. Maybe he had a mother, or a father waiting for him back there. Maybe he had a sweetheart who diligently prayed for him to come back from the war unscathed. Sansa realised she knew nothing about him yet here he was, pledging his sword to her cause, to fight for her.

“Thank you.” She allowed him the victory solely due to his relentlessness, even if she wasn’t sure if he had convinced her. “You have my permission to leave whenever you wish, go back home to the warm weather.”

Even though she knew she had to offer it to him, she prayed he would not take her up on the offer. It was true, any man who followed her should be allowed to leave if they do wish, she hated to think any man was there against his will. But she did not wish him to leave, at least not permanently. She needed people around her she could trust, she needed people she knew were loyal to a fault. Mostly she didn’t want to lose him, he was one of her only friends.

Moving away from her completely, he reached down to pick up the brush and the polish from his seat. Sansa sensed the conversation was coming to an end even though she wished it would not. She would stand there happily talking to him all day if she could, he was one of those people who could bring happiness to any situation. 

“I doubt I’d ever see my homelands again, except to take siege to it perhaps.” He spoke as if his words had no meaning, like he didn’t care if he never saw his home again. Sansa was not sure what to think of it. “My place is here now; it’s beginning to feel like home.”

Once more she felt the overwhelming sense of pride and tenderness that came with his words. He was genuine and honest, and he did not care for politics, instead he trusted his morals to form decisions. There were few men like him left in Westeros, they had all been destroyed in all the fighting and vicious politics. In that moment, Sansa decided that Podrick Payne would always have a space in her hall, whether a squire or a knight, fighting for the North or the South. He was a good man, the purest and most kind she had ever met and such should be appreciated, even if they were on the opposite side.

“And the North thanks you for that.” Those were the only words she could muster, nothing she could think of could show him the gratitude she felt for him.

Sansa doubted she would ever stop being grateful for him. He had always been there for her, whether in the background or taking a more prominent role. Numerous times he had saved her life, and he probably would do again. But moreover he was her friend, an ally she trusted completely. Always he smiled at her, an authentic, optimistic smile that calmed her, reassuring her everything was going to be alright. He was constantly kind and treated her as if she was a queen. She never wished to lose him, especially not for her cause.

It was only when she watched as he readied himself to get back to work that she realised where she was and how long she must have been there. For so long she had not thought about their situation, never considering the amount of people who would have walked past the door and seen the two of them together. She longed to stay further but the thought of what people might say spurred her to leave. It seemed silly to worry but she had seen leaders scolded for less, she had to take her leave before even more people saw. Silently, she gave him a slight nod goodbye before walking out of the room, her eyes searching the corridors for anyone who might have been listening in.

It was only when she was certain there was no one around that she allowed herself to smile properly - a hopeful smile she had not done in years.


	4. Miles from Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just before Brienne and Pod return to King's Landing

* * *

  **PODRICK**

* * *

Podrick had had a busy day. From cleaning out the horses, to training with Brienne, and polishing his lady’s armour.  Which was why he was over the moon to reach his tiny room in the castle and seeing the sight of his tiny bed in the corner. His room was on the other side of the castle from Lady Brienne’s, in with the men-at-arms tucked away. But he had a room to his own nonetheless, and for that he would be forever grateful to the Starks. He’d slept in stables before, on floors, outside – the tiny straw cot within his own four windowless walls (albeit the rest of the room was covered in Lady Brienne’s items) seemed like paradise, he even had his own fire.

His jerkin was the first thing to go followed quickly by his boots. It had been with him from King’s Lansing and if it wasn’t for its superior quality thanks to Lord Tyrion, he would have gotten rid of it long ago. The item was heavy and warm and Podrick had found himself being excited to remove it each day. When he was a knight, he’d have comfortable clothes, however those days seemed far away. Just as he was about to remove his undershirt and settle into bed for the night, before the latch on his door begin to fall, freezing him instantly. 

When the oh so familiar redhead popped her head into the room, he couldn’t believe his eyes. His first instant was to scream, to scold her for sneaking up on him in such an intimate place but he managed to hold it back. She was a lady after all, she could do as she pleased. Podrick quickly pulled his undershirt back down as she came into the room, closing the door behind her. If she had seen any of his state of undress it hadn’t affected her in any way. He, on the other hand, was blushing like a maid on her wedding night. 

Instantly he panicked, his eyes scanning the room for all the mess that was there, Brienne’s armour left half done on one side, their travel packs on the other in a chaotic pile. If only he had cleaned. The sorry room was in no state to occupy a lady, no matter how brief her time there would be. For the first time in her presence, Podrick felt ashamed of who he was.

She strode towards him like a wolf stalking its prey, her eyes were fixated on him, her expression steely. Her look chilled him to the core, reminding him that she had the influence and that he only needed to step a toe out of line, and she could end him, stopping his career and maybe his life. He knew she wouldn’t though, she was too kind, yet still, the power was still there, and the thought alone was intimidating. His lady stopped no more than a foot in front of him, behind her eyes there was an aggression he’d never seen but had suspect existed. Podrick instantly began to search his brain for something he had done wrong, but he couldn’t find anything – he had not seen her all day, he had finished most of his duties (all the important ones had been completed), he had not got in trouble with the other servants.

“You were right about Tyrion, he’s most certainly alive. Jon would have sent a raven telling me otherwise, but he has not.” Her words were cold and uninviting, and Podrick knew they were not the real reason she was in his room, he knew her well enough now to know she wouldn’t have entered if that was all she had to say.

Despite her stony exterior, it was evident that she considered the news about Lord Tyrion to be good, she would not have told him otherwise. He remembered the conversation they had had on their way to the wall many moons ago, where he had told her about the rumours he had heard about the kingslayer and Lord Tyrion and she had not believed him. He knew then that Sansa wished for his old master to be alive. Still, her potentially happiness at his survival did not make him feel any more at ease.

“That is good to hear.” His throat was dry as he spoke, his body still in shock from the sudden intrusion.

She had come to a halt straight in front of him, her brows pulled in as a frown spread across her face. Clearly, his reply had been inadequate, not at all what she was wanting him to say. The only explanation Podrick could think of for her irritation was that she had wished Lord Tyrion dead, that the news after all had been a hindrance to her plans. But surely that was not correct, he did not claim to know her well though he did believe strongly that Sansa Stark was not cruel, she would have been happy to know of his survival. Though what did he know, he was only a squire.

Sansa studied him inquisitively, her jaw clenching at his silence. She was irritated at something that much was evident, yet for the life of him Podrick could not understand what. He felt his breath quicken under her gaze, his hands nervously playing with the hem of his shirt in front of him. He wanted the world to swallow him up there and then, to rid him of the situation he was in. Always he had heard men inform him that women were complicated but till then he had brushed it off as them being despicable, however now he was starting to feel they had been correct. Podrick had not a clue what was going on, instead all he could do was stand there, his mouth gaping like an idiot. 

“Well, are you going to beg to stay?” She sighed, her head shaking in annoyance as she exhaled, her words quickly followed by an eye roll. “Say your bit, I know you are dying to, I thought I’d give you a chance before you ambush me.”

Still, Podrick had little idea to what she was speaking of.  From her words he deduced that he was meant to be leaving her yet again, yet he had not been informed by anyone that he would be conducting such a task. Lady Brienne certainly hadn’t told him, although he had suspected something may have been on her mind by how quiet she had been – she had always been quiet but her silence that day had been something else. He thought back to the time when he had asked her to stay in her service, believing in his gut that he should not leave her, he knew it had annoyed her at the time, but he didn’t realise it still did. The notion embarrassed him deeply.

“No, my lady.” His eyes dropped to the floor, unsure of what else he could possibly say.

With his words a frown appeared on her face, clearly not happy with his reply. In other circumstances he would have feared for his life, but Sansa would do him no harm. Podrick however was mortified at the thought of upsetting her with his words.

“Why not?” Her head tilted to the side; her brows still furrowed. 

Sansa Stark was frightening, completely and utterly terrifying. Podrick dared not raise his eyes to look at her again, fearing that the woman would shout at him if he did. He still wasn’t quite sure what she was so angered by, though he knew he had to tread lightly, any word out of line could cost him. Whatever it was that had gotten her so riled had to be important, she wouldn’t have turned on him so suddenly if it was not.

“I don’t think it’s my place to tell you what to do.” His voice was barely above a whisper, his hands gripping his shirt so tightly he could feel his nails scratching against his palms. 

“So now you care about it not being you place?” Sansa snickered, her arms folding across her chest.  “Brienne suggested she should leave you here, to protect me.”

The flurry of pride he felt at the knowledge that Brienne thought him capable was enough to get him to look at her, his weary eyes meeting her own angered one. He was not sure what she was accusing him off, but he needed her to know that whatever it was he had not done it, he needed her to understand he had no idea what she was talking about.

His eyes implored her, begging her to listen to his reason, “forgive me, my lady, but I don’t know w-“

“-Has Lord Baelish been here? Has he been offering you any form of payment in exchange for information?” Sansa cut him off with an outbreak of interrogations, her expression willing him to tell her everything he knew. “Has he made sure you’d leave me unguarded.”

Littlefinger. Podrick Payne had not met many men he couldn’t stand the site of. Part of his job in King’s Landing was to serve people he didn’t like day in day out. Queen Cersei, The Grand Maester on occasion, Tywin Lannister. The list was never ending, there were plenty of bad people he had to serve, and he did because it was his job. Littlefinger, on the other hand, was someone he couldn’t stand the sight of. Lord Baelish had always been kind to him, never commenting on his serving ability, never not greeting him with a slight smile. What unnerved him about Littlefinger was what was lurking within. The slyness, the wit, the cunning. Moreover, what made Podrick hate Littlefinger was his treatment of Sansa Stark and clearly, he had been up to his usual tricks.

“No, my lady.” Bravely moving from the spot he’d been rooted to, Pod stepped closer to her, he needed her to know she could trust him, to know he would never betray her.  “You know I wouldn’t.”

Podrick would rather die before he betrayed her like that, he could not live with that on his conscience. He had sworn to protect her, on the old Gods and the new, he would not break that vow, and he would not break her trust even if the vow was not in place. Pod was a little offended that she would even think that, he thought that the two of them were closer than that but clearly, he had been mistaken. She did not know him, just like he did not understand her, he had been foolish to think otherwise.

Yet at his words, Sansa Stark had softened, her frown instantly dropping away from her face. Gone was the ruler who had been scorned, in her place was the girl he knew, the girl he trusted and knew to be kind. Podrick let out a long exhale he did not realise he had been holding, his body relaxing some amount at her change of attitude, he knew deep down he never was at danger, she was too honourable and good for that, but he could not deny that he had been scared.

“I do. I…I just needed to ask. I waited for you to come and ask me to stay like before, and when you hadn’t, I assumed the worst.” Sansa stammered slightly before chuckling, a smile breaking out on her face. “I’m sorry, I think I may have frightened you to death.”

Pod laughed, his eyes creasing in relief, the tension completely leaving the room. Part of him was flattered that she could think of him as such a treat, that he could actually be a target or could be used to hurt her. The other part thought it was amusing she could think it – he was an idiot, but moreover a nobody, he was as far away to court politics as a person could get.

“I don’t think there’s any chance of me crossing you after that.” His face still bright, his words true.  Remembering her reasoning for visiting him in the first place, Podrick decided to give her an answer. “I hadn’t asked because I did not know of it.”

Sansa nodded, considering his answer before snickering at her own reckless opinion. Her eyes dropped down to the loose shirt that hung on his body, before quickly returning to his face, a slight panic flashing across her face before she regained her composure. Suddenly feeling conscious of his appearance, his hands released his shirt and he begun to straighten it out, moving away the creases to the best of his ability.

“Brienne has not told you?” Sansa spoke quickly, all other indications that she was feeling uncomfortable either didn’t exist or were hidden well.

Podrick, on the other hand, was the opposite, his demeanour very much reflecting his embarrassment. He could barely meet her gaze, his face burning hot, and there was a peculiar ache in his stomach, like the feeling he got whenever he saw a pretty woman but more severe. He knew what that meant, he was a man after all and far from being a maid, and it was quite obvious why he felt it. A beautiful woman was in his room, alone with him in a state of undress, her eyes searching him like a temptress – how could he not feel that way. But that feeling brought him shame, she was his lady and he was unworthy, it only took one look around his modest room to realise that. 

“No.” He squeaked, trying his hardest to act and speak normally despite the disgrace he was feeling but failing miserably. “I could tell something was up though, she’s been brooding.” He finished, his words surprisingly not mumbled despite his reputation.

Pod was astonished he could speak so openly about Lady Brienne considering the nerves and excitement he was experiencing. It was as if he could say anything to her, despite the obvious apprehension in his tone he felt like he could tell her his darkest of secrets without thinking about it. He was simultaneously comfortable in her presence and anxious, happy to speak but with a dishonourable thought lingering in the back of his mind. Pod was entirely flummoxed at the situation, not knowing how he was coping nor what he was doing. He was acting without thinking, speaking freely without a care, he was completely out of his own control.

“I’m afraid I was not so kind to her, but I had my reasons, she will know them eventually. I need you to go to King’s Landing, to go represent me in the meeting with Cersei.” Sansa’s face was forlorn as she let out a short sigh. 

In a moment of madness, Podrick thought she didn’t wish for him to go, that she cared enough about him to want him to stay with her. He didn’t much fancy taking the long road to King’s Landing without her either, he wished to stop, he wanted to be by her for as long as it was possible.

“Do you want me to stay?” He asked anxiously, not believing fully that his instincts were correct and that any second, she might turn on him again.

Yet his lady did not reject his question and instead Sansa smiled, satisfied with his question, her gaze dropping once more to give his state of attire a once over. Podrick’s heart raced. She met his gaze once more with a hint of what Pod would describe as mischief and his breath caught in his throat. He was completely, utterly under her spell.

And Sansa knew it.

She began to pace around the room, her eyes lingering on his various belongs thrown around the room. A slight smirk on her face as she monitored his reaction. He watched her carefully as she walked, moving aside his jerkin that he had thrown on a chair, so that it was neatly pressed up against the back. Content with tidying that item, she moved towards Brienne’s armour, giving it a once over before deciding it was a lost cause.

“No, that’s quite alright - though I may have appreciated the concern…You need to get out of here, both of you…” Her voice trailed off as if she had much more she wanted to say but did not dare. She turned back to face him, her face now full of worry. “Littlefinger is on the prowl.”

He was no threat to Littlefinger, he was certain of that - he was a mere squire, nothing important. If Littlefinger probably had never had a thought about his existence. Podrick doubted he even remembered his name. Yet Sansa’s concern for him had made his breath quicken once more, she cared for him, cared for him enough to send him all the way to King’s Landing just to make sure he was safe.

“He doesn’t scare me, I’m too unimportant for him to care about me.” He took a moment to gather his bravery. “I do however worry for your sake.”

Pod was not sure what made him say it, to speak so out of line in front of his lady. Regardless of the reasoning, he felt like he could say it to her - he trusted Sansa with his life.

Sansa attempted to withhold a smile, but the corners of her lips betrayed her. Sansa looked at the floor between them. “That’s exactly why you could be a target. He’ll use you to get to me. He never likes to go for the obvious. You and Brienne need to get out of here before he gets to you too.” She warned, her words sounding unsure for a reason Pod couldn’t place. 

Podrick had never thought of himself as a target, especially in the game that was for the throne. He once thought that maybe if someone had known Lord Tyrion well, he could have been used to hurt him, but his last Lord had had a lot of enemies, and none of them had thought to harm him. The only time they had come close was when he refused to stand against Lord Tyrion at his trial, but that was an act of rebellion directly from him. Pod fell under everyone’s thoughts, and even in the slightest chance he didn’t, he knew he wouldn’t be able to betray her.

“I won’t let him.” He stated as confidently as he could. His heart still racing at the devilish look in her eyes. 

Sansa smiled faintly in appreciation. There was no way he’d ever act against her, even if it meant death.

“That’s what scares me more. You’re loyal to a fault, Pod.” She whispered and gave a look Podrick could not read and he chose not to try.

At the use of his nickname, Podrick felt like he had stopped breathing. She had never called him that before. Only Brienne, Lord Tyrion and Ser Bronn had ever used it. He wasn’t even sure she had ever heard someone call him that in her presence. Maybe Lord Tyrion years ago, but surely she wouldn’t have remembered that. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was feeling, a great appreciation for the woman or nerves perhaps? It was in the pit of his stomach yet different from the lush he was feeling before, the same thing he had felt at the Battle of Blackwater although he was not fearful for his life this time. He was scared, adrenaline filled, and anxious, but overall he felt warm, a warmth that took over his entire body and made him feel contented. It dawned on Pod that at that moment he must look like a fool, mouth slightly gape and a panicked look upon his face, but he could not control it in the slightest.

Sansa directed a soft glare at him, waiting for his response, but when she figured she would not get one, she continued.

“Don’t speak to me, don’t look at me, don’t talk about me and I will do the same for you. I can’t afford to lose you or Lady Brienne. Not until you leave, you’re not safe here.” She stated matter-of-factly, the leader within her taking over once more.

He could not speak, but he trusted himself to nod in agreement. Pod was certain he could do that if his lady wished him to, but he had the strange feeling that he’d miss her.

“I don’t know how I will catch him but I’m going to, mark my words.” The ferocious look in her eyes gave him no reason to doubt her.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” He somehow squeaked out, his voice sounding uneasy. She had driven him mad, he was acting like a complete idiot.

“I’ve learned not to.” She smirked. “Goodbye Podrick.”

With a quick smile, she turned to leave the room and closed the door behind her. Podrick watched her go with his heart in his mouth, unable to speak once more.

Podrick had not acted as such since he was in King’s Landing. Long gone were his days of being a shy youth. Well, he’s always be shy, but he could certainly speak now when spoken to, and without babbling. He wasn’t sure whether it was her careful gaze that made him revert back to his old ways or the fact she was in _his room_ where he was only wearing an undershirt. Whatever it was, he found himself being completely entranced by her, losing a sense of who he was just by her very presence. It was peculiar however that he could speak to her despite his embarrassment, that he could tell her things openly with no fear nor a second thought. It was like he was himself but not, like he could be so bold with her but nervous at the same time. The whole matter was rather confusing.

Then, as if his brain suddenly begun to work once more now that she had left him, he realised.  Only she could make him act like a fool again, only she could make him feel like a carefree boy when they were together, only she could make his heart race with just one look. 

He was in love with his lady and he had been for some time.

 _Shit_.


	5. Miles from Boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-Season 8

* * *

  **SANSA**

* * *

 

The shutters were closed in the study of Winterfell, the only light that filled the room from the setting sun, escaping between the windowpanes creating a mismatch of lines across the floor. The room was cold, with the morning fire long dead and the evening fire yet to have been lit. From below the room, in the warmth of the great hall, the last noises from a rowdy supper could be heard. That day they had received a raven that the King in the North had embarked on his way to the castle and would be there within a few days, the northern lords had celebrated the news. The Lady of Winterfell had not yet had the heart to tell them that their king was no longer their king, instead he had bent the knee to the Targaryen invader. In the next day she would muster up the courage, attempting to deal with the outcry as best as she could before Jon and his queen arrived. Part of Sansa was tempted to leave it, to let Jon pick up the pieces when he returned, but he was her brother, and Sansa was finished turning against her family. She had never expected the job to be so hard – challenging, yes, but Sansa did not expect to be feeling so run down with it.

The feast was of no interest to her, choosing her own company over making small talk with the northern lords. Most of the lords were honourable, most were fair, but every single one of them (except Lady Mormont perhaps) treated her like an imposter. She was a Stark of Winterfell, their lady, but each of them believed she was inferior because of her sex, and for that evening Sansa had decided she had no patience for it. The constant advances made it worse, time had made many of the men bachelors and most of them, aged from the very young to the almost dead, had tried to make advances towards her. Their goal was her position, to become the husband of the Lady of Winterfell. It disgusted her. Many of these men she had grown up around, and now they were trying to bed her.

A jug of wine was all that kept her company - she had finished her tasks for the day, her meetings all held, her ravens sent. The evening was hers to seize and she had decided to take it as hers so she had found a spot by the window, slouching unladylike against the bench, a warm fur covering her legs. Now she was alone with her thoughts, her mind lingering over all that had happened. To her family, now dead, to Bran, a changed man, to Arya who she finally was on good terms with.

Her mind lingered most over Lord Baelish. The way she had took his life, the way he had died. It was her doing – her’s and Arya’s, she had caused the man to die. While she had no doubts about her actions, the finality of it had stunned her, watching Ramsey die was satisfying, his crimes more than called for an execution - he was always destined to die, if not at her hand then Jon’s. Petyr on the other hand was different. For a long time she had cared for the man as a father when she had lost her own, relying on the man to get her out of King’s Landing, saving her brother and helping her to take back her home. But he had betrayed her, done terrible things just to impress her not realising he was hurting her too, and his worst of all he had sold her to the Boltons. So long he had been in her life, and in her mother’s, and she had ended it. It had been her choice, she had caused it - if she hadn’t made that decision then he would certainly still be alive.

Her father had told his children ‘he who passes the sentence swings the sword’, it was a lesson she had been taught from an early age which she had never put much thought towards. In her youth she had thought as she had no sword to swing then it could not apply to her thus, she did not need to listen. She had been wrong though, far wrong. While it had been Arya who swung the sword, Sansa certainly felt responsible for it. Her father’s words were more than literal, they always were. She who condemns carries the guilt and Sansa felt every but like she had swung that sword with Arya. She had killed Littlefinger.

It had been weeks since that had happened and the thought still plagued her; the look on his face as he died haunted her dreams. Too long it had continued that Sansa had decided she had to do something so she had taken a jug of wine from the kitchen, unsweetened unlike the southern taste, grabbed a little bread in the process, and had settled in for the night. That night, Sansa allowed herself to think about those thoughts, to dwell on the past in the hopes that it might end her torture.

She was about half way through her wine when the latch on the door went, startling her from her thoughts. She thought it to be Arya, passing through on her way to bed. The thought of her strong sister seeing her in such a vulnerable state made Sansa sit up straight, her hands wiping away the tears she had she’d that still lingered on her cheeks.

Instead of her sister, the door swung open to reveal Podrick Payne, the man that made her smile without having to do anything. Unaware of her presence, Podrick closed the door behind him, fumbling at the latch as if it was the most intricate contraption he’d seen. Quickly he moved over to the fireplace, almost tripping over the rug as he went. With the confidence that came with experience, Podrick set to making the fire, placing new wood and kindling before beginning to strike it with a flint. 

While Sansa did not claim to know ever little intricacy that came with the upkeep of her home, she knew that the lighting of her fireplaces was below the job of a squire. He would light the fire on occasion in his sworn knight’s room, yes, but it wasn’t on his list of duties to go into the living quarters of his lord or lady and light those too.

“That’s not your job.” Her brow furrowed as she called out in the darkness, her words less formal as they would be without two glasses of wine and a third in the process of being drunk.

Podrick jumped to his feet like a bolt of lightening ran through his bones. The flint dropped to the floor in with a clunk. Sansa saw he had muttered something under his breath, probably a vulgar word or perhaps a prayer. 

He turned to face her with a nervous smile, his eyes squinting slightly to find her in the darkness. It was obvious when he had spotted her figure in the corner of the room as his eyes softened and his smile grew brighter.

Sansa had not spoke with him properly since before he had left for King’s Landing, when she had warned him to stay away from Lord Baelish, when she had admitted in indirect terms that she was fond of the boy. She blushed at the memory. Podrick standing awkwardly in only his undershirt and breeches, watching carefully as she strode around his tiny room, his face as red as a tomato. Sansa had teased him on purpose and had enjoyed the effect she had had on him. He had arrived back with Lady Brienne the day previously, her faithful sworn sword had reported to her that the two of them had arrived safety, but she had not yet seen him.

His hair was longer once again, a tell tale sign he had been on the road for a long time. The way it was styled however, gently swept back and off his face instead of hanging limp, suggested that this time he had decided the look was for him. Sansa doubted he would cut it any time soon – she didn’t want him to either. The stubble that covered his face made him look older, she liked that too.

“Hullo, my lady.” Podrick nodded politely, his voice deep and effortlessly calming. Sansa felt the blood rush to her cheeks, but she blamed that on the alcohol.

“Podrick.”

He stared at her, a slight smile still lingering, his eyes searching. While Podrick was not a stupid man, he certainly did make it obvious when he was thinking. Not wishing to disclose why she was drinking alone in her room in the dark (which she was sure he would question shortly), Sansa quickly brought him back to her original question.

She gave her words careful thought, hoping that her voice would not be affected by the copious amounts of wine she had already drunk. “What are you doing lighting my fires? That’s not your job. I don’t pay you for that.”

Sansa would have remembered his name on the finance reports. In fact, Sansa was not sure if Podrick was paid at all, by anyone.

Her words reminded him of the task that was at hand and he dropped to his knees, resuming his attempt at lighting the fire. Sansa could only just make out the top of his head from below the chair that was directly in her line of sight.

“I ran into your Lady Flint down by the kitchens, she told me I better make myself useful. Seems everyone is either clearing up from supper or preparing for his grace’s arrival.” Podrick chittered on, similar to how he used to fill the silence when they were alone together on the road to Castle Black.

The dim fire he had created begun to light the room with a dull glow, she listened to Pod as he stoked the fire. Alssa Flint was a formidable woman. She was bold, smart and had been a fantastic addition to the household - Sansa was not sure she could run Winterfell like she had done without her help in organisation. She had little contact with the woman besides the odd formality but the impression she had was that she scared the rest of the staff into behaving correctly. Yet, Podrick was not her staff.

“She’s not in charge of you.” She reminded him, certain from his shy personality that her words would not have an impact, Podrick would always follow orders, even if he didn’t know the person giving them.

“She’s frightening.”

Sansa knew him well enough to know he was blushing.

The light in the room had grown considerably so much so that Sansa found her eyes straining against the intrusion of light. Podrick bounced up from the fire, satisfied with his work. He turned to her with a polite smile, readying himself to leave the room when his face dropped, his brow furrowed. 

“My lady, are you alright?” Podrick asked genuinely, his face full of concern.

Sansa did not even consider lying to him, she couldn’t. Besides, the man had eyes, he could see she wasn’t happy.

“No, Pod, not really.” Sansa dropped her concentration to the wine in her hand, ashamed to admit her position.

She waited for his response, waited for him to ask her what was on her mind. His feet dragged on the floor slightly as he moved closer to her but still no response came. Cautiously, Sansa brought her head up to watch him, his face still twisted into a frown. It appeared he was just as lost for words as she was. There was no script on what he should say, no guidelines on how a squire should comfort a lady in distress; they would have to figure out how to act together.

Clearing his throat, Podrick finally found some words to say.

“You did the right thing.” 

Sansa’s breath hitched in her throat. It was as if he could read her mind. He was been away for weeks, away from all the courtly drama, and somehow managed to return and know exactly what she was thinking. Was she really that obvious? 

“I know, I just didn’t expect to feel so responsible.” Sansa forced out, reluctant to speak in any terms less vague.

“Suppose that makes you a good leader.” Podrick spoke confidently, sure of his words.

He had told her once before that he had believed in her, she’d always remember that however, she was not sure whether she believed in herself. On one hand, Sansa was certain she was not a terrible leader, she was not evil or too heavy handed, nor was she lenient. On the other, Sansa was conscious she was just average, neither great nor mad. The North needed a great ruler to lead them through the upcoming winter, and Sansa knew that was not her.

Still, a compliment was a compliment and a lady must always be appreciative of one.

“You’re very kind.” Her reply had little feeling.

Podrick’s hand reached out to the chair beside him, his fingers anxiously tracing the pattern carved into the wood. His eyes darted around the room, taking in all its details, Sansa wondered if the room was much different to the rooms he grew up in. Winterfell was far from the luxury of the South, but Podrick had come from a minor family. Maybe their childhood surroundings were not too dissimilar. However, there was no look in his eyes that suggested he was reminiscing, instead it appeared he was debating between wanting to leave and wanting to stay.

Sansa did not want him to leave. Despite his disturbance, he had already made her feel slightly lighter with his fumbling and his clumsiness. He should stay for a little while longer, at least until she began to feel less low. She was certain he would not be missed either, it was too late in the day for him to have any other jobs to be doing. He might as well keep her company for a minute or two if she could convince him.

“Would you like some wine Podrick?” Her question sounded more like a command, drawing his attention to her once more.

His eyes grew wide in panic as if she had asked him to drink poison. He blinked a few times before shuttering over his response. “No-no thank you, my lady, that’s, erm, alright.”

Instantly, Sansa scowled. She could not see why he wouldn’t want to accept. Men loved alcohol; men loved women. Here she was a woman on her own, wine to share, and he was wishing to leave. If anything, she was offended.

“I insist.” She tried once more, hoping maybe his previous rejection had been out of politeness.

Podrick shyly smiled, his eyes carrying a hint of sadness. “My lady. It is not proper.”

Sansa supposed that was slightly better than rejection. In her solace she had forgotten about that predicament: Podrick was just a squire, she a lady. While she no longer cared to have such distance between classes the lords still hanging around downstairs would. Then, there was the problem that he was a _Payne_ \- if she was going to have a friendship with a squire it should have been a northern one. However, those lords were downstairs, he was already in her quarters, and there was no chance any of them would pay her a visit that night. 

Sansa couldn’t help but smile at his concern. He was noble, chivalrous, other men would have jumped at the chance to share wine with his lady but Podrick was not like other men.

“No one is going to come light the fires as you have been tasked with that. Bran cannot walk up the stairs, so he will be no bother. I don’t even think Arya sleeps and even if she did come through, she will go straight to bed, I doubt she would even come in here.” She reassured him, amused at his wariness.

Sansa knew her words were correct, there would certainly be no servants that night nor would she see any of her siblings. Arya would only set foot in the room if she felt like saying goodnight to her (which she rarely did) and if she did choose to then Sansa felt no shame in it. Arya would not betray her, she had never cared for class boundaries.

“The guards saw me come in here.” He sighed, Sansa was unsure if he was giving in to her pursuit or upset about leaving.

Not willing to allow him anymore time to debate, Sansa removed the fur from her lap before reaching over to the table beside her to reach another cup and he began to pour him one before he could protest. She supposed it might be a problem that the guards had seen him, but she was willing to risk it. No one would believe them anyway if they did speak, who would believe a tale about a squire befriending their lady?

“Well then they will think you are just very bad at lighting fires.” She reached out once more to give him the drink, their fingers lingering for a moment at the sudden contact, before she broke it, leaning back in her seat.

For a moment Sansa expected him to refuse her once more, watching as his attention lingered on the cup she had given him. Podrick stared at it like it was an ancient artefact, filled with mystery and completely foreign. It wasn’t, of course, but Podrick appeared to spend a long time contemplating it. Sansa was unsure whether he was unhappy to be coerced or anxious about being caught yet, she was confident that he did not wish to turn her down, he would have left already if that were his choice.

“Don’t tell Lady Brienne.” He muttered, not too certain about the situation. Swiftly, with the grace of a southern lord he brought the wine to his lips, his action sealing his decision.

Satisfied, Sansa gestured for him to sit next to her, pulling her furs up from the seat and placing them on the floor. The fire’s effect had already caused the room to heat up significantly.

“You’re secret’s safe with me.” She smirked, watching as he tentatively took a seat next to her.

Podrick had perched as delicately as she had ever seen him act. His weight not fully placed on the chair as if in any moment he would spring across the room to the door. The squire had made certain to leave plenty of space between them, seating as close to the opposite side of the bench as his body could achieve. His reddened cheeks still burning. 

They sat in silence at first, Sansa daring him to speak and Podrick too afraid to. The only sound in the air was their breathing joined with the occasional sip of the alcohol. His body was tense, she could see the tightness he was holding in his shoulders and the apprehensive grip in which he held his wine. Despite his obvious discomfort, the atmosphere in the room was far from awkward. Instead, Sansa found the silence to be oddly comforting, enjoy the presence of another person close to her as she wallowed in her depression.

She watched him carefully, the glow of the fire casting deep shadows on his face. From the occasional flicker of his eyes to her, it was clear he had sensed her gaze, unable to meet her eyes completely. The light made him looked sinister, like a blood thirsty warrior on the eve of battle. Even though it was an illusion, that it was still the kind squire she was looking at and not a battle worn fighter, it dawned on her that such a vision was not entirely untrue. Sweet Podrick had fought before, fought for his life, killed men, and he would do it all again in the upcoming battles. It astonished her that such a tender-hearted man as he could be exposed to and even cause such atrocities. Sansa found herself becoming angry at the world on his behalf; it wasn’t fair that he had to fight, it wasn’t fair that he had to risk his life, he should be in his homelands enjoying life.

Yet, when Sansa tried to picture what that life could be for him, she could not. She knew nothing of him - whether he had any family, whether he had a home, what he would be doing if he was back there at that very moment. She had shared her life with this man for many years, from King’s Landing to Winterfell to Castle Black, and back again. She knew nothing about the boy except from the obvious she could deduce. He was a Payne, yes, but not high enough in the hierarchy to be an heir nor was he from a penniless branch – he could not have become a squire if he was only a peasant. She knew he could read, so he had been taught at some point, likewise he must have been exposed to many high-ranking individuals as his words were always correct and proper, never vulgar. While it was something, Sansa was unhappy her lack of information, wishing that she could know so much more about it. It took Sansa a few more moments before she realised all she had to do was ask.

“Where would you be if there was no war?” She started light, not wanting to delve into any question that would cause him much discomfort if his past was not a happy one.

Her voice broke through the silence, changing the mood in the room in an instant as if she had broken a spell. The tension in Podrick’s shoulders dropped as he leaned back into the seat before he finally turned his head to look at her.

“Hopefully still squiring.” He spoke fast, almost like the words would not come out if he didn’t. When he realised, he had spoken, heard his words for himself, Podrick relaxed further. “Would be far less dangerous though I suppose.” He murmured, understanding he could speak freely to her.

“Really? Wouldn’t you want to be something different?” Her voice was high, the wine clearly starting to have an effect. She crunched her nose at the thought, she was expecting something grander.

Pod smiled fondly, his mind imagining the past. “No, my lady. I’ve always wished to be a knight - I doubt that would have ever changed.”

Sansa supposed it was only fair that somebody in this world was doing exactly what they had always wanted to do. Life moves on, dreams come true, even in such a cruel existence. There was still some balance left. Except Podrick had not achieved his dreams, not yet anyway; he was getting too old to be a squire. 

She could make him a knight. How she had not thought of it before she did not know. Podrick who was always good to her, always polite, a true gentleman could become a knight if she wished him to. Sadly, she was certain that would make him one of a limited selection of knights who were actually chivalrous.

“Remind me to get someone to knight you after this war is over.” Sansa tried to make a note of her words, hoping that her future self would remember what she had said.

Promptly, Podrick’s cheeks began to glow red, his smile polite but bashful. It appeared the thought of being a knighted by her was one he would be fond of. Ser Podrick Payne, fighter for the helpless, helper of damsels – it already suited him. Sansa was certain that if she didn’t get him knighted someone else would certainly; He was a good man, everyone could see that, someone would reward him for it eventually.

“That’s not right, I need to earn it…” He trailed off and for the first time that evening, Sansa saw his face turn to one of sadness. “If I even make it through the war,” he whispered, his words frightened them both. 

It had never registered with Sansa that he might not survive the coming winter. The thought of him dying – of him being in pain – was not a thought she could comprehend. Podrick was just as mortal as every other man who fought for her, his friendship with her did not save him of that, the sooner she realised that, the better. He would put his life at risk, and he wasn’t guaranteed to survive. Sansa may have to experience a life without him, without his smile, without his bashfulness - the thought upset her greatly.

“I’m sure you will. I order you to.” Her words caught in her throat, her teeth clenched together to try and gain control over her emotions.

His eyes, adoring and gentle, bore into her like a sword. A vivid smile spreading across his face at her concern. His breathing, heavy and deep, was a comfort – he was alive, he was there. She wished to draw him into her arms, tell him that it would be okay. She wished to speak with him for hours, to keep him alive with her words. She wished to never stop looking at him, thinking that if she did, he’d never return to her. Never before had Sansa felt herself so drawn to somebody, so invested in their survival. It scared her.

His reply was humble. “I’ll do my best.”

He turned to look at the room beyond their corner. The fire beginning to crackle, the table covered in her correspondence, the old rusty sword that hung on the wall belonging to a grandfather of hers. Desperately she wished to know what he was thinking about, part of her wishing his thoughts were on her. Podrick drew the cup to his lips once again, draining it completely before placing it at the floor at his feet. When he had put the cup down, he became more settled, his legs stretched out in front of him as he sunk further into the bench, his shoulder came to rest against hers - neither one of them dreamed about moving it. 

“Want another?” Sansa asked nervously, the nerves in her shoulder screamed at her.

His touch was warm, the rough studs of his jerkin dug into her but did not cause her pain. It had awoken something inside of her, something that made her nervous, something that made her want more. Sansa was not sure she had ever felt anything like it. Yet, despite her inexperience about the feeling, she knew what it was in an instant thought she chose not to admit it.

He turned to look at her with a bemused smile. If he was feeling nervous, he was not letting it show. Sansa wondered whether the wine had gone to his head or if he was just at ease being close to all women. After all, she had heard the rumours about him at King’s Landing, it had been the talk of the ladies at court for quite some time. 

“I better not, unless you want me to start singing.” He scoffed, his face inches away from her own.

His words surprised her, bringing her away from any thought she may have been having about the young squire and his experience with women.

“You sing?” Her eyebrows shot up, her face filling with astonishment. Her squire was ever the source of wonders.

“Not particularly, but I liked to listen to the songs when I was younger. My uncle used to scold me about it all the time.” Podrick spoke easily, no comprehension about the importance that information would be to her. His arms crossed upon his chest, increasing the pressure between their arms.

“Your uncle?” Sansa gaped, not sure what that meant about his upbringing. It was the opportunity she had been trying to get – a chance to ask him about himself.

“Ser Cedric Payne. Awful man, good fighter though.” He grimaced, signally the less he would say about the man the better. Sansa had never heard of him.

Sansa, happy with the progress, gave little thought to prying further. “Did you not live with your mother and father?” She asked, her question blunt and to the point.

But Podrick did not seem offended by her question, and he appeared very much at peace with the answer. “Erm, my father died in the Greyjoy Rebellion. I’m not sure what happened to my mother…My uncle told me she had ran off and left me in his care in the middle of the night, but somehow I’m not quite sure I believe him.” His brow furrowed, his eyes growing frustrated.

Despite her wish to continue, Sansa felt that his words were best left not expanded on. She never imagined him to have grown up unloved, she could not imagine anyone not being fond of him. Yes, he was a fool on occasion, and he used to have the terrible habit of stumbling on his words but neither of them should have stopped anyone from liking him. Surprisingly, Sansa felt herself becoming angry at his story, instantly hating Ser Cerdic without knowing a thing about him. But it was evident that Podrick no longer cared to be angry, nor did he wish to speak on the matter. Instead, she decided to distract herself from her thoughts, bringing the conversation back to their original point.

“I used to love the songs too. I wanted so desperately for my life to be like them. Maybe to even have a song written about me.” Sansa rolled her eyes at her youthfulness. “I was so stupid. I want to go back and scream at myself.” 

If only she had known what horrors would await her, if she had not been besotted with the prince, if she had not been forced to lie about her father - maybe things would have been different.

“Someone may still get write a song about you. The beautiful Lady of Winterfell, steadfast despite everything that’s happened, protector of her people.” He chuckled, amused at his own words. Long gone was the time for songs, soon it felt there would be no one left to write them.

_Beautiful_. Sansa’s thoughts lingered on that word. She has been called that many times by many people. Always her looks were complimented, from friend or foe, and Sansa was sick of it. Yet, hearing that word now from the young man sitting so close to her, Sansa felt her heart beat quicken.

“You think I’m beautiful?” Sansa stared at him in shock, her eyes taking in every single detail of his calm expression.

She looked at his eyes, so kind and diligent. His cheeks, wide, perfect for a smile. His lips, soft, inviting.   

“Well – erm – yes, of course you are.” Podrick stumbled, his eyes committed to watching her despite his sudden nervousness.

Her heart felt like it would beat out of her chest. Never before had someone’s words had such an effect on her, never before had she felt so grateful and so panicked at the same time. Her stomach was a flutter, like it was turning over and over inside of her but she welcomed the feeling.

Their noses were inches apart.

His breath was hot against her face, it had quickened slightly with her last question. However, the feeling was not unwelcome; it reminded her that he was right there, that he was alive, that he was just as nervous as she was. It made her blood rush to her face, anxious in anticipation of what might come.

In that moment, Sansa considered kissing him. Her eyes dropped to his lips once more, her tongue licking her own in the process. It would be so easy for her to cross the gap if she chose to, she barely had to move. But he was her squire, he was a Payne, so many lines would be crossed if she did such a thing. He wouldn’t act because of it; it could end in his death if he greatly miscalculated the situation. Yet, Sansa did not care, she had the power.

It felt unnatural at first as she inched towards him, never before had she instigated a kiss that wasn’t forced. Sansa was not too sure she even knew what to do. His eyes widened at the sight of her closing in on him, but it did not stop her. She was determined to do it, determined to feel something so pure for the first time in her life. She knew she deserved it. She’d never had a kiss that she thought fondly of and she wished to achieve that before he could be abruptly taken away from her.

His lips were warm, motionless. It was over quicker than it had begun. She moved back slightly to see his reaction, his eyes still open, blinking a few times in confusion, his body never moved from its relaxed position. Sansa felt like a fool.

But then, almost as if his instinct had only just kicked in, his lips were on hers once more. Sansa’s eyes closed on their own, her body automatically moving, her thoughts stalled. The pressure was harder, firmer than her softness, the kiss meaningful. It was evident he had was a lot more experienced than she, she could tell from the confidence in which he kissed her. Her hand moved to his face; the feeling of his stubble rough against her fingers. It was perfect - it was all she could ask for. 

Suddenly, he pulled back, the connection lost. Sansa felt herself craving his touch, wanting so desperately to pull him back but before she could act on those feelings he was already moving further away. His face red, completely red, his eyes frightened. There was no smile lingering on his face any more. Hurriedly he sprung out of the seat and away from her, crossing over the room to pick up the flint he had left there ages ago. He did not turn back to her to say goodbye, she never heard him say a word. As silently as he had come into the room, he had moved out of it, closing the door carefully behind him leaving Sansa flummoxed in his absence.


	6. Miles from Believing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during 8x01

* * *

**PODRICK**

* * *

In the days following the Dragon Queen’s arrival to Winterfell, Pod had found himself doing every little job he could, be it polishing armour or delivering messages between craftsmen, and he did so in order to have no excuse to see _her_. She was on his mind constantly, the feeling of her lips against his own replayed over and over again in his memory, and he had tried his hardest to throw himself into work so that he could have the tiniest of reliefs from his thoughts. He had enjoyed it, he had enjoyed it too much, but moreover, he felt shame. He should not have taken advantage of her loneliness for his own gain, it was not acceptable of him, he should not have done it. The voice in the back of his mind reminded him that she had kissed him first, that she had initiated it and kissed him back when he reciprocated, yet he could not listen to it, he should have known better.

He was avoiding her, making an effort to leave whatever room she entered, to not meet her eye if she threw him a glance and it turned out to be a very strategic mission. Sansa Stark was everywhere, Podrick did not know if she had always been or whether it was a recent development following the events that happened between them but everywhere he went, Sansa somehow appeared there. The kitchens, the training grounds, the men-at-arms quarters – every place he went he found her there, her stare immediately drawn to him. The whole ordeal was rather uncomfortable and Pod was beginning to consider the best course of action was to leave all together.

He had messed up, completely ruined everything. He should not have let her kiss him, he shouldn’t have accepted her offer to drink and he certainly shouldn’t have stayed for that long. The night’s events he replayed in his head over and over again, scolding himself every time about what he should have done, what he could have done better. Sansa should have been angry, he was surprised that she had not found another excuse to let him leave her once more, to get him out of her sight forever. Yet Podrick was not a fool, and he could tell by the way she kept looking at him, sad and longingly, that things were much more complicated than that. Sansa Stark felt it too, the draw to each other, the comfort, but both of them needed to understand that they could not happen, and Pod felt leaving may be his only option. 

* * *

 

The night the Jon Snow returned to Winterfell with a new queen saw a sorry feast held within the Great Hall. Supposedly a night of celebration and support for the pair, the feast was miserable, the warmth felt towards the foreign queen non-existent. The awkwardness in the air hung around the room, no one had paid attention to the head table where the blonde queen sat and everyone was aware of that. The northern men did not like her, many of them had not greeted their leader, Jon, in retaliation to his oath to the woman, and from the steely look that was on their faces, the two were disappointed in the men. Someone, he supposed Sansa, had been preemptive and had hired some bards for the night, a quartet of men on instruments whose sound reverberated around the hall, masking the obvious quietness in the room.  Still, a feast was a feast and the northern men had taken advantage of it, the wine was flowing and the food had vanished. 

In an unusual turn of events, Podrick had found himself for the first time in his life not enjoying a feast. Even at the lowest points in his life had he always enjoyed the music and later the wine that was associated with such events, yet this time Podrick was miserable. His mind was plagued with thoughts about his lady, deep shameful thoughts that he hated himself for thinking, and no matter how many cups of wine he drunk the thoughts wouldn’t go away. Her eyes had been on him all night, their power ever present despite his will power to not to return her gaze, if it wasn’t for Lady Brienne speaking to him the entire night then he would have left to rid himself of such pressure. She was making life hard for him, and he was certain she knew it.

After getting up to retrieve some more wine at the back of the hall, Podrick had stalled by the table, his back against the wall as he exchanged pleasantries with Lord Tyrion. The two had seen each other only a week before but there had been no time for catchups then, so Tyrion, never one to turn down a captive audience, had delighted him from tales of Meereen and his journeys from King’s Landing. The squire was unsure how much if his tales were true, but they were exciting none the less, and Podrick was so overjoyed to be back in his company that he didn’t even think about questioning them.

When he left however, making excuses to return to his queen, his attention turned elsewhere - a serving girl not far behind where his lord had been, her eyes on him and a smirk upon her face, she had been waiting for Tyrion to leave. She was pretty, brown haired and brown eyed like most of the northern girls and from the look on her face he knew exactly what she was after. To say he didn’t consider it was a lie, as he stared back at her warily Podrick did contemplate taking her to his room, far away from the hall and from the woman on his mind. Maybe that was all he needed to get his thoughts away from his lady, maybe that was a cure - a distraction, a reminder that he was lowborn and could not have her. Besides, it had been a while, he hadn’t seen many ladies on the road up north and there had been no time when he had returned to the capital, maybe that was why he had been so fascinated with the Lady of Winterfell to begin with. However, as suddenly as the girl had made eye contact with him, her eyes shot open in shock before turning back to her duty, her jug of wine instantly pouring out a drink for some bannerman. Podrick did not need to turn around to know who it was as he could already sense her presence; his spine had stiffened as he waited for the person to address him.

“What do you make of our new Queen?” Sansa muttered bitterly, her voice barley above a whisper so only he could hear.

Out of respect, Podrick turned to look at her despite his conscience telling him to leave, to bolt without even looking back yet he could not do that, such movement would raise suspicions. While he doubted anyone was close enough to hear their conversation, Pod knew that someone somewhere would have seen her approach him, from the outside looking like a lady making polite conversation with her pledged sword, and for him to leave so abruptly would result in someone questioning it.

Sansa had a small smile upon her face, her eyes flickering between himself and the girl behind him. At first he thought she’d be angry, that she would reprimand him for looking elsewhere but the glint in her expression indicated that she was far from that, in fact she found the idea amusing. Pod did not know what to say, instead he just stared back at her, holding his tongue knowing that if he said anything then their topic of conversation would move onto that which he’d been dreading. Ironically, he found himself able to hold her gaze without addressing her with the usual formalities he relied on, he was her vassal after all, a ‘my lady’ would have been the polite response. Maybe it was the wine or the memory of the kiss, but Pod chose to stray away from tradition, choosing not to speak while he silently wished her to leave.

Sensing his cold welcome, a frown quickly rose upon Sansa’s face, the wine she was nursing held close to her, contemplating his reaction thoroughly. Pod did not know what had possessed her to come over to him in such a public situation, what had possessed her to seek him out at all. In his opinion the less said about their moment together would have been best, yet here she was desperate to speak with him - she had been desperate to speak with him all day. He was not sure what she was requesting from him, or why she was after it, but he knew he would not give her it, despite his heart screaming at him to listen to her.

“Are you not going to speak with me now?” She raised an eyebrow with a sigh, her eyes piercing with rage at his silence.

He wanted so badly to speak to her, to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless like he’d thought about doing but he couldn’t, and he could never. He doubt she thought of him as something other than some fun, someone to kiss when she felt like she needed company but regardless he needed to end it before it got out of hand, if he could find the nerve to do it. Instead, all he could do was stand in silence, his face determined and unyielding to her scowl.

Sansa remained there, glaring at him and compelling him to talk. Still, Podrick wouldn’t, he _couldn’t_ , knowing that he had to stay silent to maintain the balance of what was right. If he spoke he would submit to what he was feeling, he would be admitting what she had already succumb to, he would be putting them both in danger. Podrick knew it would not be the worst thing in the world, a squire and a lady being _whatever they were_ , but he knew it would be difficult, he knew it would be hard, and moreover it would jeopardise her position. It was the best thing for all of them if he stopped this before it got out of hand, yet he could not find the words to say it as such for he was neither brave nor selfless enough. Rather, Podrick chose silence in the absence of his bravery, much to the anger of the woman in front of him.

Sansa took a deep inhale, reluctantly admitting that she would not get him to change his stance that night. She gave him a once over, her eyes searching his attire while her mind thought of something witty to say. With one sip of her chalice, Sansa’s gaze rose back to his, her eyes still filled with irritation. 

“Go to the armoury and get your jerkin dyed black first thing tomorrow. Red’s not your colour anymore.”

With that she turned gracefully away from him, his eyes drawn to her hips as she strode away from him in determination. The situation was a mess, a deep, conflicted mess that would have been avoid so easily if they had just done something different. Pod knew he had to speak with her eventually, they couldn’t continue as such forever, but Podrick prayed that that time would come when both of them had the strength to do what was best.

* * *

 

As he stared at the weirwood tree, Pod contemplated his life up until that very moment, every lie, every man he’d killed, everyone he’d injured. He had never been one to follow the faith of the Old Gods, having grown up in the Seven worshiping south, and he had never really understood the purpose of a sacred tree yet there was something about the crooked face upon it that instantly made him question every little bit of his morality. He’d gone to Godswood to have some peace from the bustling castle, away from any distractions so he could focus on what was tormenting his mind but all he had encountered in the clearing was his own demons. _No wonder Northerners were so moral_ , Podrick thought, _one look at the tree and they were faced with everything they hated about themselves_.

Oddly, despite the sins he had been reminded of, Pod felt comfort about being there, like the Old Gods acknowledged his evils and forgave him for them, yet they did not want him to forget it. He had never been a believer in the power of religion, he had not grown up worshiping any sort nor had he ever found a draw to practicing when he was older, still he could not shake the vastness he felt while sitting in the Godswood, staring at the tree’s face as if it was an old friend. He prayed to be a good man, to always make the correct decision even if it was hard for him, he prayed that he would survive this war, to live long enough to see the kingdom at peace once and for all – mostly though, he prayed about Sansa Stark.

Sansa Stark with her red hair that he wanted so desperately to run his hands through, her eyes, always steely yet always kind, her smirk that teased him continuously. It was all he could think of, all day every day, and it was torturous, so many wishes that could never be fulfilled yet constantly tempted him. He prayed that he would always have the strength to refuse her, and that he could do so without hurting her, for there was no life in which they could submit to such feelings without it having repercussions.  It was dangerous, it was unconventional but moreover it was exactly what he wanted and that scared him more than the oncoming Army of the Dead. 

“Black suits you better.”

Podrick’s thoughts froze at her voice, his heart already beginning to race, he should have known she would come there, it was her castle after all. Part of him even considered he may have wondered there deliberately subconsciously, knowing that he would get to speak with her and see her but he chose not to admit it. His eyes flashed to his newly dyed jerkin momentarily, now a shocking deep shade of black that still held a hue of red throughout, unable to rid the item of the colour completely, a memory of who he once was fighting to remind him of his past.

“My lady.”

He rose to his feet in shock, his eyes darting around the treeline to see if there were any others with her, anyone who could see his reaction and get suspicious. Finally, after establishing they were the only ones there, his attention moved to his lady, watching him intently. She was wrapped up warm, her fur lined cloak pulled close to her, and her cheeks had already grown pink from the cold, making the blue in her eyes stand out like stars in the sky. Sansa looked every bit the part of the Lady of Winterfell, a true northerner and a true Stark, a lady of winter, and Podrick thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

“No one is around.” Sansa smirked at him, pleased that she had managed to get him alone after days of trying to find him.

Podrick knew what she was doing, he wouldn’t be surprised if she had followed him into the woods knowing he would be alone without a place to escape to. All week she had been trying to talk with him, trying to get him to address what had happened that night yet he could not fathom why she was so eager to pursue this – whatever this was. He was certain she knew her own mind, and he had no desire to tell her what she should be doing, who she should pursue, but he also knew his own, and he recognised that he could not go against the traditional boundaries he had grown up with. It was imbedded into his life, a knowledge of his status and how he should act with people both above and below that, it wasn’t so easily removed, he couldn’t just break every standard he held to do something so daring.

“I really must get back to Lady Brienne.” He mumbled, taking a few steps away from the woman towards the tree line before she called him back, and he would always follow orders. He knew his escape attempt would have not been successful, the much-needed confrontation he’d been avoiding was going to happen, yet he felt obliged to try, even if he understood the attempted would fail. 

“Podrick.”

He loved the way his name sounded when she said it, and it was enough to get him to stay. The conversation needed to happen, as much as he wished to avoid it, talking was the only way to end whatever dance they were doing. He drew his full notice to her, breathing deeply trying to stay as calm as he could under the situation. Instead, all he wished to do was run, to run far away from her as he had been doing for so long, but he had to be brave now, the time had come.

“What are we doing?” She shook her head, smiling at their foolishness.

And then he said it, like a weight had been lifted off of his heart, like the throne that had been in his side had finally been removed.

“I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have - _kissed_ \- you that day.” Pod stumbled over his words, uncertain what the correct way to address the problem would be.

His response earned a sigh. Sansa rolled her eyes as if he was a speaking the most foolish words in existence.

“Firstly, _I_ kissed _you_. Secondly, I wish you would stop apologising.”

Sansa took a step towards him, her eyes kind yet demanding, reflecting the leader he knew her to be.

“Sorry.” Podrick swallowed, the shame he felt about kissing her returning like a surge of water.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” She challenged him, testing what he would say and attempting to read his character as she did with everyone.

“I have, my lady.” He could not lie to her.

“Gods Podrick you can call me Sansa, I think we’ve moved away from such formalities!” She snapped abruptly, rushing forward until she was inches away from him, pleading with him to just give in to her ways.

“Sansa…” Podrick liked the way her name sounded on his tongue, but he could not dwell on the thought. “You are my lady – I’m not even a knight!”

He returned her intensity, forgetting altogether that she was his lady and he should not even think about speaking to her in such a way. He had never raised his voice to her, he rarely raised his voice anyway, yet here he was, descending into the argument after days of trying to avoid it. It was coming, it had been brewing, and the tension in that moment had made him snap.

“I told you I’ll make you one, I could even make you a lord!” Her hands flew up in protest, her eyes feverish and not hearing the madness in her words.

It would not be correct for him to become a knight on her demand, he had to earn it, and he had to earn it from a fellow knight, not one that had been coerced into doing it. He certainly couldn’t become a lord, that would only ruin them further, he’d always be known as the imposter, the one who got his title because he kissed his way there. It would not be right, it couldn’t happen.

“I’m sure your bannerman will accept that.” He sniggered, his manners disregarded.

“I’ll make them.” She looked ferocious, like nothing he’d ever seen before, determined to make this work.

“ _Sansa_.” Pod sighed dejectedly earning another sigh from her.

“This doesn’t have to be so complicated.” She pleaded, her eyes searching his for some chance he may change his mind.

His eyes tore away from her and stared at his feet, sadden by the thought of what could have been. “It is though. It just is." 

Despite his sorrow, Sansa would not back down and instead she reached out her hand to brush his chain-clad forearm before moving it away as suddenly as it had come. It had the desired effect and Pod raised his gaze once more to meet her pleading one. She looked scared, her eyes beginning to water, yet he doubted she would let it fall. He knew his leaving had affected the woman, but he had no idea the extent that she had cared about it.

“Tell me this then, when you kissed me, did you do that for fun or was there actually something there?”

_Because he wanted to._

“I don’t think I can answer that question.” He answered honestly, knowing that he could not tell her the truth.

“Gods, Podrick!” She groaned, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. “I’m willing to fight for this, for _you_ , and you can’t answer bloody questions!” 

His breath hitched in his throat, his thoughts dwelling over every word she had just said and from the shocked look in her eyes, it was evident Sansa had also come to the same revelation. She wanted him, she cared for him, she wanted this despite the cost. There was nothing in the world he wished for more than to kiss her then, but he couldn’t, his stubborn pride would not let him give in. 

“I’m a squire, I’ll destroy your reputation.” He whispered, the grief surrounding his words washed over him.

“Have you not been listening? I’ll get Brienne to knight you.” Sansa whispered back with hesitant words, her face glazing over with the reality he had reminded her of. There was no denying this would be hard, and it was evident for a moment she had forgotten that fact.

“My lady, it shouldn’t work like that.”

Then, as if something clicked once more in her mind, Sansa’s passion returned, her eyes filling with hunger like a king to a conquest. She wanted this, and she was going to fight him on it until her last breath. Never before had be met someone so stubborn.

“There are much worse corrupt things in this world Podrick, you should learn to take advantage of the lesser ones.” Sansa scoffed, her brow furrowing in determination.

Pod could only stare at her, at a loss for words at the demonstration of passion he was witnessing. He would not win this argument, there was no way she would let him, so he chose to remain silent, unable to even think of a response.

“Gods!” She cried out at his silence, her eyes rolling once more out of frustration. 

“Listen to me Podrick.” Sansa quietened, her hand finding his forearm again causing his heart to quicken.  “ _I want this_ – whatever this may be. This is the first time in forever that I’ve felt like this and from everything that’s going on in this world, I pray that I can be happy just for once before someone or something decides to put an end to it – gods forbid they do!”

Podrick felt tears rushing to his eyes, threatening to fall at her words. Never before had he heard such a thing, never before had someone been so besotted with him to say such striking things. His eyes focused on her longer fingers against his wrist, wishing that the chainmail and shirt weren’t there so he could feel the satisfying touch of skin on skin. He loved her, he knew he did, or at least he was beginning to fall in love with her – he wasn’t too sure on what love felt like to be certain. Moreover, he felt himself giving in. It felt so right, how could anything wrong feel that way.

“Sansa…” He trailed off, desperately searching for the best words to say, to let her know that he felt it too.

“Now, I am wanting to fight for this, I don’t care what my bannermen say I will work around them. I don’t care what my family think, or the politics behind it. I - don’t - care.” Sansa continued, unaware of his already changing view.

“You should though.” He murmured without thinking, without realising his words was the exact thing she hated the most – unsolicited advice. He was too deep in thought to truly listen to her, his mind lingering on the choice he had made but not yet made known to her. 

“I swear Podrick… all this time you were too afraid to talk and now you can’t stop interrupting me.” Sansa’s hand flew from his arm in a huff. “I don’t see what you are fighting this for.”

However, he wasn’t fighting it anymore. Podrick had made his decision, albeit reluctantly, and he knew it was the right thing to do. Truthfully, he had been fighting it all week, choosing instead to dwell on the argument of his status instead of the issue that was actually was at hand. He was scared, so very scared of what he was feeling. He felt vulnerable, he felt helpless, but moreover he felt unworthy to the world. He did not deserve her attention yet somehow, he had got it, and he dreaded to think what others would say about them, about him, when they did. For so long he had focused on what it would mean for her that he had pushed aside his own feelings, the ones that truly were the issue here. But they were gone now, and he was ready to yield to her words. They would do this, they would try this, and they were going to fight for each other and for what they felt. There was just the matter of finding the courage to do that.

However, before he got the chance to do so, someone, neither him nor Sansa, cleared their throat, alerting the two to their presence. Pod’s vision snapped immediately to the culprit, his hand drawn to his sword just in case he needed to use it. Much to his relief, it was Lord Royce standing in the clearing, the look on his face clearly showing he was well aware he had just walked into the middle of something inappropriate. It could have been worse, it could have been a northern bannerman, or even the Dragon Queen, instead it was the most loyal man to Sansa Stark at Winterfell. Still, Podrick grew anxious at his presence, his infamous blush already beginning to take over his cheeks.

“My lady, your brother wishes to speak to you in his chambers.” Yohn Royce addressed his lady, his eyes darting between the two of them standing so close together and evidently in a heated discussion.

Pod was uncertain what Lord Royce knew about him, about them, but he trusted his loyalty to Sansa, and for that very reason Pod knew that Royce would get to know every little thing about him. It was exactly what he was dreading, people finding out about them, people judging. He supposed he should be grateful that at the very least it was him and not someone more dangerous.

“Thank you, Lord Royce.” Sansa called out, not bothering to turn to face him. She had recognised the voice, yet from the unwavering in her tone she was not worried about what he had just walked in on. She trusted him completely, and her calmness did wonders to his nerves.

“Think about it. Pray on it.” Sansa lowered her voice so only he could hear, her eyes never once separating from him, and made one last remark before leaving him alone once more. “You better come to a decision before the Long Night is upon us or I might just kill you myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must apologise for the cliffhanger of the last chapter - it was rather cruel of me! I hope this chapter gave a lot of insight into just why Podrick left in that situation.
> 
> In my head he would be rather reluctant to go against what he knew to be correct even if he felt the way he did, I definitely think there would be more conflict there than there would for Sansa, she takes much bigger risks than he and would feel a lot less conflicted doing so. I really hope I managed to get across how confusing the situation is to him, and how much he is trying to stop the conflict between his head and his heart! It's all looking up now though!


	7. Miles from Tradition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still pre-Long Night. I really wanted to explore the relationship between Sansa and Lord Royce in this chapter as it's not one visited much in both the show and fan fiction - hope you enjoy the head cannon I made for them.
> 
> Chapter notes at the end do have spoilers for the finale so please take care.

* * *

**SANSA**

* * *

 

“With the grain brought by the Karstarks, the grain stores are almost full.”

Yohn Royce spoke with confidence as he addressed his lady, proud that their combined effort had brought the population of Winterfell to a more comfortable existence. The two had been working together closely, forever having meetings together and working towards a better future, Sansa knew she had picked the most reliable confident she could. Royce was loyal, he was competent, but moreover he believed in her whole-heartedly and would walk every step she chose to make with her. For so long she had been acquainted with him, from the Vale to Winterfell, for so long he had kept his promises, never breaking faith with her, and Sansa felt it was her duty to include him in the majority of her decisions, it was only fair.

“Do we have enough?” Sansa leaned forward on the table between them, in front of her the financial books were open where Maester Wolkan had left them open. Feeding the people was of a great concern to her, more so than smoothing out any relations she had with the foreign queen currently residing in her castle.

The two had retreated to the privacy of her solar, to get some peace and quiet from the bustling castle, and to have a much-needed conversation that the two had not managed to find time yet to do. With the arrival of Jon and his queen, Sansa had been rushed off her feet, forever organising quarters, or food, or spending her time in the Godswood, and she had been in desperate need to speak with her most trusted advisor. For many years Sansa believed that she was the only person she could trust with politics, anyone else would either betray her or use her to their own advantage, yet Lord Royce had proven time and time again that he was there for her, that he was on her side constantly. He always followed her orders, even if he did not appear to believe in them, he had betrayed Lord Baelish at his trial, choosing to side with her prosecution despite his fealty to Littlefinger, but moreover, he had been with her through thick and thin, a constant support she would forever be grateful for.

“Not yet, my lady.” Royce sighed.

The matter of food, despite Queen Daenerys’ remarks, was proving to be a tough problem to solve. For so long they had all been preoccupied with the upcoming fight that no one else had given any thought to what came afterwards, only her. They were unsure of when the fight would come, sometime within the month she self but in theory it could be years, and that was years’ worth of food to provide to the castle and grounds filled with the vast majority of the North, Wildlings, the Knights of the Vale, the Dothraki and the Unsullied, and then three dragons. Still, there was the matter of what they would do afterwards, here was no predicting how long the winter would last, or if the winter would end with the fight, nor could she predict how many mouths she needed to feed afterwards. Thus, Sansa Stark had to prepare for the worst-case scenario, and she had not yet come anywhere close to solving the issue.

“Put the people on rations, not yet basic so we still have room to reduce further if need be,” Sansa carefully considered the idea, “let the soldiers have more, hopefully that will increase their morale.”

“That’s the majority of the castle,” Royce warned and Sansa considered his sound advice.

“Well, let us pray the Long Night comes sooner than we would like.” She smiled, not actually hoping for that, before continuing more seriously, “we cannot not feed them properly if we are to win this war.”

“I agree, my lady.” Royce nodded. “Although may I suggest an increase of wine and ale at meals? That we have plenty of and fills a belly just as well, we should make use of that and reduce the food intake.”

Sansa had not thought of that, and while she did not feel like hosting numerous drunks in her castle, she did feel the idea was suitable. The drink would keep their spirits high and their bodies warm in the winter, it was a great notion. It would also help their food reserves, to stop them declining so rapidly, and to keep them fed for longer, achieving everything she had been trying to accomplish – it would be foolish to pass on such an idea.

She communicated her agreement and the two concluded their meeting. However, as Sansa began to close the books in front of them both, she felt the sturdy eye of her councillor on her and instantly she knew something was the matter. It was not a reach for her to guess what his concerns were about, she had been waiting for him to speak with her about it since he had found her in the Godswood earlier that day.

“Do speak your mind, Lord Royce.” Sansa clasped her hands together on top of the books and met his gaze, she felt hot under the collar but chose not to show it. 

Never being one to welcome criticism, Sansa was deeply uncomfortable at this shift in conversation, her back tensed up  as if someone was breathing down her neck. She knew what was coming, she knew he would her scold her actions and moreover he would criticise Podrick which Sansa felt herself growing most irritated about. It was one thing to critique herself, she was open to him advising her about what she could do better, but to speak of Podrick, someone he did not know and was dear to her, was something she did not like one bit. While she did not appreciate the lecture he was undoubtedly about to give her about the inappropriateness of the relationship, she owned it to him to listen after everything he had done for her.

“That squire boy, the Payne –“

“Yes, what about him?” Sansa cut him off before he could go any further, already not liking where the conversation was going.

Nervously, Lord Royce swallowed, the awkwardness of the situation was overwhelming him too. “Are you with him?” 

It pained Sansa to not know the answer to that question and truthfully her lack of an answer had set her back. She had been so preoccupied with preparing to defend him that she had not thought about other questions he would ask. Sansa had no clue if she could class herself as in a relationship with the man, certainly she wished to be, and was hoping with all her might that he would accept her proposal to try, but she could not know for certain. However, there undoubtedly was something going on between them, so she could not say that there was no substance to their relationship. Sansa did not know what to say, her mind thinking of the best possible way to relate to Royce the predicament she had found herself in.

With her silence, Royce decided to continue, nervous that he had offended her with his frankness, “by that I mean is this serious or just some youthful flight of fancy?”

“It’s serious.” Sansa replied without thinking about lying, bracing herself for the inevitable onslaught of criticism she would receive.

At her words, Royce’s face softened and a small, knowing smile appeared there. “I thought as much. Well, we will just have to plan for when this will undoubtedly come out in the open.”

Instantly, Sansa’s face contorted into one of confusion at his unexpected response. “Are you not going to advise me otherwise?” 

“No, my lady.” His calming response soothed her, reassuring her that they could work this out, “I know better than to interfere with the matters of the heart.”

She smiled genuinely at his response, her fondness multiplying for the man in front of her. A good adviser would have warned her against it, they would have scolded her for not choosing someone more suitable. Yet Royce was not a good adviser, instead he was her friend and she was beginning to feel for the man similar as she had done for her father. If she asked for help he would unquestionably give it to her, if she had a problem he would work tirelessly with her until there was a resolution; he was so positively on her side yet Sansa did not feel he was false, so many times he could have betrayed her but he had not. No, Lord Royce was her friend, and was fast becoming a father-figure, she would never be unpleasant towards him.

“Well, let’s think this through,” Royce started, running a hand under the neckline of his armour, deep in thought. “You certainly understand the danger of the situation, especially in this moment. There are people here who may choose to use him against you if the time came.”

She didn’t need to ask to know of who he was speaking, and Sansa was shocked she had not considered it herself. First Littlefinger had been a threat to them and now it was Jon’s new queen. Sansa mistrusted her deeply, she had done on their first meeting, being able to see through her false pretences easily. Daenerys wanted blind loyalty, yet if she wanted Sansa’s support she had to earn it, and the absence of that was what put her in danger. If they lived long enough to see her usurp the Iron Throne, or possibly even before that if their relationship grew bitter, the first person she would target in an attempt to destroy her would be the man she knew she loved. Sansa had been short-sighted and stupid, if she could go back to stop all the longing looks she had publicly given him, she would – anyone could have seen them, and it only took one person to relay that back to the queen, it had unknowingly been a very dangerous endeavour for her.

“Now, I don’t propose stopping the affair as it is evident you wouldn’t, but I would suggest keeping the matter a secret until after they ride south – for both your sakes.” Royce added, pausing for a moment as he contemplated his thoughts. “Then there is the matter of what to do afterwards. He is from a lesser house, if you were to marry he may take your name, or at the very least your children will be Starks and that would mean the continuation of your name.”

Sansa had an internal panic at the mention of marriage, she had never considered it, especially after the disaster that was her first two. She supposed Royce was correct, if she was to enter into anything with Podrick it was evident they would end in one of two ways – marriage or a complete split, with him leaving the North forever. While she preferred the idea of the former, she did not wish to marry him, not yet anyway, though she suspected he would be a doting husband.

“We could have him knighted after the war,” Royce continued. “The bannermen will have seen his courage, so they will not fight it, and then I advise you should come out with it all. It will come out anyway, it should be on your terms, the bannerman should respect that.”

“Podrick doesn’t wish to be knighted unless he’s earned it.” Sansa smirked, remembering the man’s foolish but chivalrous words.

“I like this boy.” Royce flashed her a rare smile before taking his leave, making her feel so much better about the situation with his words. 

Sansa appreciated that she had someone else on her side, someone else who did not feel this relationship to be an irrational idea. Lord Royce could have easily advised her to stop whatever they were doing, scolding her for her stupidity and her choice in men but he had not, instead he had done the opposite. They could work through this, they could make this work, if they were careful, Royce believed that and so did she. There was only the matter of convincing Podrick of just that, and that was proving to be harder work than she expected.

 

* * *

 

 

Despite her overwhelming desire to run to Podrick following her conversation with Lord Royce, Sansa knew she could not, and instead decided to use patience when it came to the situation. She wished so badly to tell him that Royce was on their side, that he thought they could work if they were careful, that _she_ knew they could, but Sansa also knew him, and what Podrick needed was space to contemplate his inner turmoil. Moreover, she knew she couldn’t seek him as it would raise suspicions, wherever he was, be it the training field or the men-at-arms quarters was no place for a lady, and her doing so would draw attention to her that she was now trying desperately to avoid. Doing so would raise questions, and questions turned to rumours, and if said rumours landed in the hands of the wrong person, Sansa was in a very dangerous spot.

Waiting for Podrick was infuriating, yet Sansa felt it was the right thing to do, to have tolerance to his doubts. Twice she had been forced into relationships because she felt there was no other option, she did not want her relentless pressure to push Podrick into thinking he was in a similar situation. While she had her doubts, Sansa was quietly confident that Pod would accept her offer once he had made peace with his thoughts. It was a complicated decision for him, one that could ruin his career much more severely than hers if things did not work out, one that would potentially elevate him to one of the highest statuses in the kingdom that would undoubtedly come with major criticisms. If he accepted, it would be a big risk, one that would come with many threats, yet she had a feeling he would make it.

He liked her, he liked her in a way that a man should like a woman, that much she was certain of. She understood that from his constant blush, the way his eyes followed her at all times, the way he had kissed her. Moreover, she knew his thoughts to be pure, not merely lust nor interlocked with the thought of advancing his status. No, Podrick appreciated who she was, not as the Lady of Winterfell but as Sansa Stark, he liked her for her and not her title, and that was one of the many reasons Sansa had grown to be so fond of him. She did not love him, nor did she think he loved her, not yet anyway, though she had the overwhelming feeling that he was what she deserved, and that thought warmed her to the very core. Podrick was everything she had wished for, he was kind, gentle, and chivalrous, a knight through and through – it was what she had always wanted.

It surprised her however, that she didn’t have to wait long for the much-anticipated response. It had been less than a day since their meeting at the Godswood before he had summoned her, indicating that he had come to a verdict on her proposal. She had not expected it when it had come, nor did she expect it to have been so easy to arrange despite the amount of people currently residing in the castle. She had been with Maester Wolkan on the balcony, organising the latest ravens to send out summoning and pleading reluctant lords to leave their warm castles to head for the safety of Winterfell when she saw him enter the courtyard below her. It had amazed her how quickly she could find him in a crowd, how she always knew when he was nearby, like a predator to a prey, knowing so instinctively where to find him and each time Sansa found herself getting closer to believing there were other powers at bay drawing them to each other.

Evidently, he had finished training for the day, and he and the other lucky men who had quarters inside the castle walls were making their way through the gates. Sansa turned to face them instinctively, pressing herself up against the balcony railing, completely disregarding Maester Wolkan as he pottered around with the ravens. Like a hypnotic pull she could not describe, Podrick’s eyes met hers, slowing down his pace slightly at the sight of her. He had broken a sweat from the fighting, and his cheeks were pink from the cold, but Sansa thought of him as handsome nonetheless and found her breath stuck in her throat from the contact. Without breaking their shared gaze, Pod gestured with his head towards the eastern side of the long courtyard, a silence agreement between them that he wished to speak with her there.

Sansa want to act immediately, to rush there as hastily as she could but she had taken Lord Royce’s advice to heart and understood she could not draw any attention to the meeting. Instead she continued her consultation with Wolkan, the nerves in her stomach distracting her greatly and threatening to get the better of her. Her fingers drummed against the balcony rail, waiting anxiously for the Maester to stop talking and conclude their discussion. So desperately did she wish to know what he had decided, the worries at the thought of a rejection being outweighed by the possibility of him agreeing to a future; She could not wait to have some sort of closure from the situation.

As soon as the last raven was released, Sansa made her excuses, telling the Maester she wished for one last moment of peace and quiet before the night fell. She hurried down the stairs, making her way across the courtyard much slower than her previous movements, realising the speed at which she had walked. Yet, when she got to the eastern wall, she could not find him and her heart began to race. Silently panicking, Sansa searched the area with her eyes, deducing that he was not hiding behind any of the workshops that were in the almost deserted courtyard. Many people were getting ready for supper that night or cleaning themselves off after a long, hard day of training and Sansa’s concluded Pod must have been among those ranks when her eyes lingered on the door to the crypts. She wondered if he was down there, she wondered if he would have risked being seen entering a private place, she wondered if he was waiting for her there. With one last look around the courtyard, Sansa let out a nervous sigh before making her way towards the heavy door she was drawn to. 

Her descent down to the crypt was a quick one, anxious to get to the boy as quickly as possible, and when she rounded the final twist in the stairs and saw the warm glow in front of her, the clear sign that someone was there, her breath began to deepen. She prayed to the Gods it was not Arya, or Jon, or more so that it was not a rouge bannerman who had decided to pay their respects to their fallen lords. However, Sansa’s prayers were answered when she saw him at the end of the corridor, slotting the last of the torches he had been lighting into the wall, not yet aware of her presence despite her hurried footsteps.

Sansa swallowed hard as she took him in. There was something familiar about him being there that she did not understand, a sense of belonging in her family’s private place. It was as if he was meant to be there, and the crypt was a fitting place for the conversation they were going to have. So easily did he belong in her life that he did not look out of place amongst the tombs of the Starks, that maybe one day he would find himself resting alongside them.

“You shouldn’t be down here.” Sansa called out, alerting Podrick of her arrival. Her voice sounded frail, her nerves getting the better of her, something she had not experienced in many years.

Podrick turned on his heel, a quick smiling flying onto his face as his cheeks flushed deeply. “No.”

She had expected formalities, she had expected him to act the same as he had in the Godswood. Yet Podrick was speaking to her as he had done before the kiss, so honest and open, with little regard to what was proper and correct. The hope she had about reconciling with him grew expediently at his tone, reminding her of where they had been before things had grown messy. He was her friend again, and if he was acting like that the chances of him rejecting her were falling slimmer.

He began to walk towards her, his smile gone but a steady determined look had replaced it. Sansa felt herself rooted to the spot, unable to move, completely under his power. She supposed this was how he had felt all the times she had teased him, completely enamoured by him that she had been reduced to feeling like a fool. All Sansa could do was breathe heavily in anticipation, her gaze barely meeting his as she waited for him to speak, waited for him to reveal the truth to her.

“I’ve been thinking about your words…” Podrick trailed off as he came to a halt, feet ahead of her, in front of one of the many tombs that lined her family crypt. His attention completely removed from her, he took the statue in, as if he had not known it was there, a look of surprise on his face. “That’s Bran the Builder.”

Sansa smirked at his surprise, all nerves she had leaving her body, his spell completely broken. Nothing Podrick could say to her would cause he any pain, he was completely harmless.

“Yes, it is.” She confirmed, more confident than before.

Boldly, she came to meet him there, her eyes drawn to the statue’s strong features unaware of whether it was an accurate reflection of the man. Instantly she felt the heat radiating from him, the energy created from his time training warmed her to the core.

“I grew up on stories of him. I-I didn’t think he would be here.” Pod sounded amazed, all thoughts regarding why they were down there had escaped him.

“He was a Stark.” She stated uneasily, anxious that their topic of conversation had changed.

Unlike Podrick, Sansa was very aware of the situation at hand. His breathing, her nerves, how his hand hung only inches away from hers begging to be touched. She considered reaching out and intertwining her fingers with his, reminding him of what had brought them there, but she knew that was too forward of her, she wouldn’t do that until he allowed her to. Instead she moved in front of him, fully drawing his attention away from the statue and back to her. 

She saw the moment he returned to reality, her eyes quickly flickering around the room, searching for whatever words he had prepared.

“I’ve thought quite a bit on what you said,” Podrick started calmly, like the words he was saying were the easiest words in the worlds despite the implications they had. He paused for a moment, his eyes lingering on her lips before he continued. “You know this will be hard, you have thought this through?”

Without needing to say it exactly, Sansa knew what his words implied, and she felt herself becoming giddy at them. A smile broke out on her face as her heart jumped out of her chest. It was just what she had always wanted.

“Yes, I have.” She grinned, swiftly becoming overwhelmed with happiness.

Podrick nodded earnestly, contemplating her words. “People can’t know, not for now anyway.”

“No.” Sansa agreed as if they were organising the terms of a business arrangement albeit one with much feeling and significance.

“If they did and did so soon it would ruin us. They’d expect us to end things…or go through with it completely and get married…I don’t think either of us wished to do that.” Podrick rambled, unleashing all the thoughts that had invaded his mind, his face going completely red at the discussion of marriage much like she had done earlier that day.

All Sansa could do was smile brightly at him, her manner not reflecting the words of the person opposite her. He wanted this, he wanted them - Sansa felt overjoyed at the thought. For too long she had been unhappy, constantly betrayed and thought of as some mule to sell at market to the best bid, but now she had someone who she wanted, who she had chosen for herself. It was a dangerous path to take, but she was willing to take it for him, she wanted to take it for her own happiness. Instinctively, her hand found its way to his bicep, lingering there, asking him to stop talking and kiss her once more. Podrick looked at the sudden intrusion of his personal space and back at her doting expression, his breath getting fasting. But still, he did not finish speaking. 

“It could completely destroy your position; it could stop whatever plans you had.” Podrick spoke, unaware of her desire for him to stop. “We have to be careful, I don’t want this to be a hindrance to the North, I don’t want to stand in the way of you and your position within society.” 

She nodded slightly, hearing his words but her mind did not focus on them. Urgently she wished for him to stop talking, for him to finally kiss her proper after days of waiting for it. Yet from the concerned look upon his face she knew he had no plans to do so, all he wished to do was get his thoughts off of his chest, to speak about the situation, to go through it all in depth despite the fact he had already expressed his agreement. Then, when she saw him open his mouth once more to speak, to tell her things he had already told her time and time again, she decided to do something about it.

Her hands came to his face, cupping his warm cheeks and stopping any words that would come out of his mouth. For a moment she looked at him, her thumbs lightly caressing the softness of his skin, licking her lips and closing her eyes before finally closing the gap between them. Instantly she smiled into the kiss, noting how eagerly he returned her pressure, reminding her that she had never been kissed properly before. Even that night in her quarters he had not kissed her so, then it had been filled with hesitancy and was quickly over, now he was kissing her as every woman should be kissed, filled with passion and adoration.

Quickly her arms went around his broad shoulders, pulling him closer to her and further into the kiss than he was already. She admired the sturdiness of his body underneath her arms, the feeling of strength and leanness that came from years of training, it reminded her that he was a man, and the primal desire that washed over her at the thought made her kiss him even more urgently. Completely giving in to her desires, Podrick’s hands made their way under her cloak, his cold palms pressed flat against the small of her back, pulling her into him so that they were flushed completely together.

Gone were all the worries they had, replaced by the overwhelming fact that this felt right, that they needed this. Frantically, they clawed at each other, trying their hardest to get even closer, the studs in his leather digging into her uncomfortably. Never before had her heart raced as such, never before had she wanted so completely to live in a moment forever. Her hands went to his hair, pulling him closer, not bothering about what pain it would cause him though he did not seem to mind. She thought about undressing him there and then, she thought about giving in to every lustful thought she was thinking but it was only the knowledge of her surroundings that stopped her from doing it.

It was only when she felt his tongue against her lips that Sansa remembered she had no idea what she was doing. She was inexperienced despite all the horrors she had faced, she did not know how to kiss, how to please someone, but from the way she was feeling, he certainly did. Sansa found herself trusting her instincts, opening her mouth slightly to let him in, he knew what to do, and she was putting her faith in him that he would teach her it too. When his tongue met hers, it had felt odd but wonderful, like she simultaneously felt confused and overcome at the contact, and she tried the best to follow his lead, listening and responding to every move he made.

The rumours of King’s Landing were true. He could kiss a girl like she’d only ever imagined she would be kissed, and he did it so effortlessly and with so much passion she did not know existed. His ferocity forced her backwards, arching her back to give him as much dominance as he wanted, completely giving in to him. Gone was the perpetually nervous man, and in his place stood one with so much confidence at what he was doing that it made her weak at the knees.

Then, almost as if he suddenly remembered where he was, his kisses began to slow, his hands loosening their grip on her. With one last kiss, they separated, her forehead resting against his as she listened intently to the sound of their heavy breathing, basking in the warmth that was shared between them. She opened her eyes slowly as he pulled away, the two of them untangling themselves silently, understanding that they could not stay down there forever. Her hands fell from his hair, lingering on his shoulders for a moment before breaking all contact. She knew her cheeks to be just as flushed as his, she felt her lips being just as swollen.

Podrick flashed her a mischievous grin at the sight of her, his hand flying up to beginning to smooth out the hair he knew to be sitting messily from her prying fingers. Sansa reflected his smile, her eyes glistening with hope of what was to come. Without saying goodbye, Podrick brushed past her, his hand grasping hers for the first time, his fingers now warm, before he released them, making his way out of the crypt before someone could come looking for either of them.

When she had saw him completely retreat out of the dark corridor, Sansa allowed the grin she had been holding in to spread violently across her face. Her hand came up to cover it, and she chuckled at her girlish behaviour. She had never been kissed like that before, and it had knocked all sane thoughts from her head leaving in her in a drunken state. She had to wait a while before she could leave yet she found herself not being able to even think about leaving, wishing to stay down there in the aftermath of their kiss instead of facing the harsh world above. All she could do was think of him, think of his kiss, think of his touch, all other worries were gone, replaced with the thoughts about the future, thoughts about kissing him again. In that moment, Sansa felt like the happiest girl left alive and there was nothing or no one who could change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I thought I should redeem myself for all the angst with a very long kiss scene...
> 
> Anyway, SPOILERS FOR THE FINALE, DON'T READ IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED.
> 
> My girl did us proud! Queen in the North - long may she reign! And Pod! SER Pod, he got his happy ending too! I've kinda hated this season but I am quite satisfied with the ending, at least in terms of the Stark Sisters/Jon/Brienne/Tyrion/Pod. 
> 
> In case any of you are concerned, if I develop my story that far, I will definitely be moving the story more AU as we can't have the two in separate kingdoms, that wouldn't be right, would it? ;)


	8. Miles from Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not quite happy with this chapter, it's very deep and not my usual style, yet I did not think I should brush over the situation either.
> 
> This chapter includes a lot of musings about morality/death so if that makes you uncomfortable then please skip it.
> 
> (Also I've added POV titles to each chapter for clarity)

* * *

  **PODRICK**

* * *

 

The mood in the Great Hall that night could be described as sombre at best. In it sat six strangers, six friends choosing to share their last moments together before the dawn came and changed everything. They exchanged stories, told jokes, and battle tactics, yet all Podrick could do was stare at his glass of wine like it was his last. _It probably would be his last._ He listened as they got to know each other, he smiled fondly at his lady getting all of her dreams handed to her in a form of a knighthood, he even sang when Lord Tyrion commanded it, but his mind was elsewhere, as it had been for the previous few weeks. 

He thought of her hair, warm and bright like fire, always immaculate even when they were on the road together many months ago. He thought of her smile, rare but charming, a knowing smile indicting that she knew every little secret, and she probably did. Her eyes, how they could tell him so much about what she was thinking without her saying a word, he would never see them again. _Her kiss_. They would never kiss again, they would never be together again. That night Pod knew he would die, he could feel it in his gut.

For the dead were coming and they would be there before the dawn, thousands of men would die that night. The news was like a slap in the face, an instantaneous reminder of just why he was there, of why everyone in the castle was there. His relationship with Sansa had been a distraction, a distraction from what was happening around them, from the truth of it all. Podrick was facing his death, and he was fairly certain it would win - he would die that night, he was confident in that fact. He would die at Winterfell, terrified and cold yet the thought did not frighten him; he always believed he would die fighting, like every knight or squire was wont to do, so much so that he had come to terms with it. He would die, all men had to die, it was going to happened regardless. Podrick thought he would die at the Battle of the Blackwater, he thought he’d die in King’s Landing, if anything he was impressed he had made it this long. Still, there was something about that night that made it feel final, like a perfect conclusion to his meagre exitance, he knew he would die, and he had made peace with that.

If he were to die that night, he would never kiss her again, never see her, nor say another word to her. If he were to die he would never find out what their future had in store, whether they by some miracle could work out or not. The thought made him sick to his stomach, and it had made Podrick feel less comfortable at the prospect of dying. Moreover, what bothered Podrick so, what made the night altogether miserable was his lack of courage to go say one final farewell to his lady. They had promised each other they would not give in to temptation, that they would be careful in their actions, and there was nothing worst that could betray their secret than meeting up on their last night alive.

He thought of the time they had had together, brief but perfect, and yet not at all satisfying. Somehow, between all the stolen glances and private moments, the relationship between the Lady of Winterfell and the squire became the best kept secret of the castle. Nervous as he had been regarding establishing a relationship with the woman, Podrick had been pleasantly surprised at how easy it had been to keep their affair out of the public eye. As far as Podrick was aware, the only people who knew of their connection were themselves and Lord Royce (though Pod strongly suspected Lady Brienne had some inkling he had a lady friend) and thus, they were still a secret, and the two of them tried everything in their power to keep it as such. They were rarely alone, and when they were, they were never in the privacy of their rooms. Pod stayed away from her quarters as much as she stayed away from his. All interactions they had together were random, the result of a fleeting instance where they were left alone, with no eyes on them and no one to interrupt; they were alone without their own doing, be it walking down a corridor together after others had rushed ahead or simply being the first two people down to supper on a night. Podrick and Sansa had taken their moments as they had come, savouring every hand hold, every touch, every word they could say to one another that was not entwined with various words of propriety.

The castle of Winterfell had many nooks and crannies, each perfect for a quiet moment of peace between the two and Pod had grown to appreciate every second he was allowed to be with his lady. They had kissed again only a few times, neither one wanting to risk a true moment of privacy in such a hostile situation, instead their kisses had been brief, rushed, and nowhere near as passionate as it had been down in the depths of the crypt. He fondly remembered when she had kissed him by the armoury, stealing some contact with him before they had to meet up with Lady Brienne about the defences of the left flank. He had been ordered to escort her to the meeting, the two had spent the entire walk trying desperately to have no interaction besides the expected pleasantries, watching irritably everyone they passed, each person one reason why they could not speak or touch each other freely. It was only when they were alone, inside the enclosed corridor leading to the armoury, and waiting for Lady Brienne, that they had allowed themselves to give in to temptation. Brief moments together were all they had been blessed with, all they could act upon out of fear of what could happen if the wrong person saw them. 

For so long the two longed for more, wishing and hoping above everything that the two could be alone, truly, without causing a commotion. Before they had agreed to start this, the two were hesitant due to the implications about them being caught, it was only when they had agreed to hide it that they had discovered how heavily such hesitancy had affected them. Podrick thought about her every moment of the day, during every swing of his sword during training, to when he fell asleep at night, Pod could only think of her, of getting close to her, of kissing her. He was practically lovesick, yet he could not act on it, he could not even look at her for a long period of time. The secrecy was torture, a necessary torture, but a torture nonetheless. Still, he would not change it for the world, every second he did have with her, every hidden moment, was worth it. Yet, in a matter of hours, it would all be over.

Hard as it was, Pod was certainly not going to betray them in a moment of weakness, and it was evident from the lack of Sansa around him that she had felt the same. For if there was a slight chance he would survive this attack, the secret would be out, everyone would find out just who Sansa Stark spent the last few hours before the battle with. Even if he didn’t survive it would be detrimental to her, everyone would know their lady had chosen to find comfort with a squire, and one so bad he did not survive the battle, it would humiliate her. No, Podrick would not go to her, nor her to him, despite everything in his body screaming at him to have one last goodbye. Instead he decided to stay with Ser Brienne, finding solace with friends and strangers around the fire in the Great Hall, draining jugs of wine like it would be their last.

_Fuck tradition._

Tormund Giantsbane’s words were not pointed at him, yet they did make an impact that neither one could understand. For what seemed like hours he pondered those words, thinking about tradition and the way of the world. Tradition stopped Lady Brienne being a Ser but they had changed that, just like tradition stopped himself from going to the woman he was falling in love with hours before he would likely die. At the end, everything that was stopping him was rooted in tradition, if information about them fell into the wrong hands, it would be tradition that would be used against them, they were stopping themselves from being happy because of it and it alone. Even with the threat of him being burned alive if the Dragon Queen and Sansa could not set aside their differences, it would not be their relationship that would be the cause, instead Pod knew he would be killed regardless, him and Brienne were too obviously devoted to the Stark that they would be some of the first to be executed; the Dragon Queen would kill him regardless if it came down to it, her finding out about them would only make the process quicker. 

If they were together, properly together, it would be hard, it would be tradition that they would have to overcome yet Pod couldn’t help but think that was a sorry excuse to keep them apart. If they were together, nights like these would be so much easier, he could spend his time with the person who mattered the most to him without feeling shame. If they were together and he was to die that night, she could mourn for him properly, not having to hide the sadness of his death behind a stoic look. Things would be so much easier, even with the added criticism that their relationship would acquire, if they just decided to ‘fuck tradition’.

Podrick found himself pondering those words for the rest of the night, thinking about just what would happen if he decided to go against the grain and change his life completely. How different things would be if he just kissed the girl he liked in front of everyone, how such a public display would change everything. But he couldn’t help but feel like everything he was thinking was pointless, it didn’t matter in the slightest. Many people would die that day, perhaps all of them if the battle did not go that way, and Sansa would be left picking up the pieces of a completely empty castle. Like Jenny of Oldstones, forced to wonder an empty castle filled with memories of who once occupied it for the rest of her life.

But before he could act, horns resonated in the distance, indicating to the many men who were waiting anxiously for it that it was time to move into position. It had brought a stop to the group’s drinking, and made every one of them look to each other, acknowledging the inevitable. It was time to fight, to do their duty, it was time to face death. Any thoughts he had about going to Sansa for one last goodbye had completely left him, there was no time, he was too late. It was too late to change things, instead he had to fight and contemplate his mortality for the rest of the night, the bigger purpose of the night forcing him to stay away from her. He would lay down his life for Winterfell, for her, and he would not regret it for one second.

However, he had made up his mind, if he by some miracle survived that night, he would kiss her, he would tell her they were being cautious for no reason. He was ready to face the world head on with her, ready to face all negativity they would be exposed to just like she had been that day in the Godswood. Life was too short to hide behind closed doors, he could die tomorrow, and if not tomorrow then when they faced Lannister forces, or maybe even the Dragon Queen; Pod knew he could die at any time, especially in the political climate which they lived in, if he survived that night then he would live without regrets. He had left it too late to do that this night, but he was determined to not continue to waste his time on this world in the future.

“Goodbye my friends, I pray to the Gods that I will see each of you again.” Lord Tyrion nodded solemnly to them all, finishing his cup of wine in one flourish.

If there was any one of them who would survive that night, it would be him, down in the safety of the crypts, and Podrick was glad for it. It was one less person he needed to mourn for, one less person to die in their fight for the living, and he was happy it was his previous lord. The world needed him much more than the battlefield did, he could rebuild the realm, he could make it better; If anyone needed to survive the war it was him.

Podrick wished he could say farewell to him, but the swift movement of his leader out of the room, away from the leering wildling he noted, prompted him to follow, rushing behind her like the devoted squire he was. As he passed Lord Tyrion the two nodded to each other, a silent communication of good wishes before he left, leaving the other members of the party to finish their drinks and join them.

However, as he entered the courtyard, the nightly chill freezing him thoroughly, he saw a familiar shade of red out of the corner of his eye, and his heart instantly began to race. It was his chance, a sign from the Gods that he needed to act, and it may have been the only chance he’d ever get. He turned his head to look over, confirming it was her, and she was staring right back at him, her eyes piercing him through the darkness. Podrick halted his movements and the two watching at each other, each desiring the other person to make a move yet each not daring to do so. After a moment, Ser Jaime appeared from the door behind him, followed swiftly by Ser Davos, and Podrick’s attention was removed from the girl with a knock to the back, startling him and forcing him to look for a source. 

“Come along, Podrick.” Jaime muttered, the seriousness of the situation effecting his voice, making him sound like the great war general he once was.

With a deep breath, Podrick turned towards the girl again, only to find that she was no longer standing there, and instead she was striding away, never looking back - his heart dropped. He had been too late, he had his chance and he could not deliver it. If he died that night then it would be his only regret. Still, as he followed behind Ser Jaime, Podrick could not shake the thought of her from his mind, so much so that it stopped him dead in his tracks once more. He could change things, they could change the world, and all he had to do was go to her. It was a decision he had already made, unbeknownst to him – he was not dying with any regrets that night.

“I’ll meet you out front,” Pod nervously told him, earning a look of confusion from the lion who had turned to watch him.

He knew his actions would raise his suspicions, but he was past the point of caring. That night was not the time to worry about such trivial things, it was instead time to give in to temptations, to ‘fuck tradition’ and any other concepts preventing him from doing what he so desperately wanted to do. Once Jaime had taken a moment to ponder the thought, he smiled knowingly, and gave him a nod of encouragement. If there was anyone in this world who understood the matters of the heart, it was Ser Jaime Lannister.

Quickly, Podrick spun and hurried after the girl, keeping careful watch of her red hair in his eyeline so she could not escape him once again. She rounded a corner, into the battlements and he followed, not caring about the amount of men that surrounded them. As she begun to climb the stairs to reach the top of the walls, Podrick’s hand flew out to her back, forcing her to acknowledge him, and she spun around to face whoever had touched her. Her irritated look at the intrusion of personal space was immediately softened as she saw it was him and not some guard who wanted one last opportunity to touch his lady. A smile broke out on her face as she moved past him, her hand grasping his and pulling him to follow her, back down the stairs and into a room to the side for a little more privacy.

The room was filled with spare arrows and pitch, ready for the assault from the castle walls, it had no door, just an archway, leaving them exposed to the anyone who happened to walk past. Neither of them cared, it was not the time or the place to remember stupid rules or propriety, instead it was the time for one last farewell, a moment of weakness that could be forgiven. Yet, Sansa still threw a swift look towards the men outside the doorway that were not paying them any attention, worried what they might think but still keeping a firm grip on his hand. 

“I suppose you came to say goodbye.” Sansa murmured absentmindedly, her gaze fixated still upon the men rushing past the door. Her thumb ran across the back of his hand as she moved to intertwine their fingers, signifying that despite her lack of attentiveness she was glad he was there.

“Yes,” He exhaled, wanting nothing more than to kiss her and leave without saying the inevitable words. “I would have come sooner but I was too scared.” 

“You probably shouldn’t have come at all, anyone could see.” Sansa warned, her blue eyes finally meeting his own.

“That doesn’t matter.” His brow furrowed, aggravated that she could still think about their secrecy despite the urgency of the situation. 

“It’s dangerous, Pod. You should have stay-“ 

“Have you not seen outside? I’m in danger anyways.” Podrick cut her off before she could scold him anymore, “I’ll always be in danger and being with you will not change that.”

With a sigh, Sansa nodded dejectedly before closing her eyes, her hand squeezing his with all her might. “Do be careful, don’t do anything heroic that could get you killed.”

He knew he could not promise that, it was part of his job to do such a thing, to make decisions regardless of his own safety, to risk his life if he felt it could save others. Neither could he tell her just that, so in its place he raised his spare hand to her cheek, compelling her to look at him once more.

“Sansa,” He started, desperately searching her sorrowed expression for some indication of what he should say to her. 

“Don’t.” She cautioned, her eyes filled with fear. “Don’t you dare say goodbye or speak for a second like you will not make it through this night.”

Podrick began to breath deeper as he slowly nodded, beginning for the first time that night to feel completely overwhelmed about the situation. In a moment he would leave her, perhaps even forever, and he could not think of the words to say. He had never been one to cry, not that he was afraid of showing emotion but because he rarely found any reason to, yet in that moment he felt his eyes welling up, and he bit his lip, trying his hardest to hold the tears at bay. 

Opposite him, Sansa’s tears were already falling, though she remained silent not letting them affect her, ever the stoic lady he knew her to be. Her hand in his kept its pressure, communicating so much in that touch that she was not saying on her face. She did not want him to leave, she did not want him to go and fight, and neither did he, but they both knew he would have to. As if on cue, they heard shouting from outside, the guards at the gate letting everyone know that it was almost time to shut it. In unison the two sighed, knowing that it was time for the two to leave each other. 

“I need to go,” Podrick dropped his hand from her face, making sure to let it linger on her arm before he removed it completely.

For what seemed like minutes, the two stared at each other, each debating whether to give in to temptation where anyone could see them. It would confirm to whoever was watching what they surely would be thinking. What a lady could be doing with a squire, what the two who seemingly nothing in common were doing spending their last moments before the battle together. It would change everything, their secret would get out. Both of them were so tempted to do it, to close the gap between them for one last kiss but neither of them had the courage to do so.

Reluctantly, Sansa released his hand and snuffled, swallowing any emotion she was feeling as she stepped away from him. She gave him one last faint smile before she began to move away, turning her back on him completely. She had already left the room before Podrick followed her, not thinking when he reached out once more to grab her hand in the busy corridor, pulling her back to him firmly. 

“Fuck tradition,” he muttered to himself, echoing the wildling’s words as he pulled her in for a kiss, not caring who saw or what people thought.

He would have regretted it if he didn’t do it, to have one last kiss before he put his life on the line, and he knew she would have too. In that kiss he told her everything he wanted to say, that he was falling in love with her, that he would do everything in his power to return to her. He savoured every moment, thinking it would be his last before he pulled away, as swiftly as he had pull her to him.

Sansa stared at him with wide eyes, shocked at both his boldness and the profanity she heard him mutter to himself. Staring was all the two could do, each flummoxed by his actions, acknowledging just what had transpired between each other and what it had meant. There would be no going back now, someone must have seen it. Still, the two did not want to move apart, the thought resonating between them that the kiss might have been their last, and that they were experiencing the last moments they would ever have together. But he knew he had to, and with one deep breath he walked away, towards the gates, towards his death, his thoughts completely on the woman he left behind him.


	9. Miles from Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Battle of Winterfell.

* * *

**SANSA**

* * *

Sansa’s hands could not stop shaking as she walked through the courtyard, her hand clasping the bloodied dagger as if at any moment she would be required to wield it again. Sansa did not pay much attention to the piles of bodies around her, both the incomplete remains of the dead and the bodies of many brave northern men, the remaining men with strength left making the piles higher, moving bodies out of the way in order to prepare the pyres for burning. Instead, Sansa focused on her path ahead, gingerly striding over remains to reach her destination though she had no clue what that would be.

She wanted to walk, walk forever until her memories of that night had died along with the thousands of bodies around her. To forget that terrifying moment when she had to plunge her dagger into the dead bodies of her ancestors to save her people, to forget the people, innocent and helpless, who had died because she had not been fast enough. Sansa knew she shouldn’t blame herself, she had no training and did not know a thing about fighting, but she did so regardless, she was their leader, she should have protected them. Yet, the memory that stuck out for Sansa, the one that would hurt the most in the years to come, was the waiting for the doors to be opened from the outside, waiting in all the blood and the mummified Starks, waiting for what seemed like hours and praying that they had won the war.

For their own safety, the crypt door had been locked from the inside, yet when it had come to opening it when they thought to battle to be over, the inhabitants had tried opening the door to much resistance. It was only when they were finally released that they saw what had been trapping them inside – a mountain of bodies, then slumped against the side of the door, like someone or something had been fighting them off there rather successfully. It was the first shock of many for the few that had made it out of the crypt, the dead below ground seemed like a paradise to the horrors that awaited them above. There were people everywhere, dead and alive, and the courtyard had a distinct painting of blood on every surface which Sansa, ever the practical lady, thought would take many days to completely remove. However, what hit them most of all was the stench, the smell of blood mixed with something else, something more sombre she had not smelled since her last encounter of Ramsay Snow – the smell of death.

So, she had set off walking, in shock by her surroundings and seeking something she could do to help yet she was unsure what she could do. She thought of going to the hall in the Barracks, the place they had agreed upon in advance and set up hastily last night to be an infirmary for the most wounded of soldiers, but she had no medical experience, nor did she think she could stomach the sight of the heavily wounded. Then she thought about the Godswood, to go pray for the souls of the men they had lost, then she remembered the dead bodies that would be there, Theon would be there. She knew him to be dead, he was dead the moment he had agreed to protect Bran, and that was a scene Sansa knew she wasn’t strong enough to see. Instead, she just walked the courtyard, the walls, the halls, in search of what she could do yet never finding anything, her head clouded by her memories of the night. 

She counted the people as she went, recognising their survival yet feeling no emotion at seeing them alive and relatively uninjured. _Lord Royce, Samwell Tarly, Sandor Clegane_. Sansa felt numb as she saw them, neither sadness or relief, all she felt was a dull terror, forcing her to stop thinking yet not consuming her body entirely; it was like she knew exactly what she was feeling but did not feel it at all, a complete confusion of her entire body.  _Jaime Lannister, Brienne of Tarth, Davos Seaworth_. Still, she continued to walk, unable to greet her people or the friends that held places close to her heart. Sansa was in such a great shock that she could not even greet her brother, Bran, as he was wheeled passed towards the Great Hall and the living quarters. _The Baratheon boy, the Unsullied general, the leader of the Wildlings._ Each one she had met, been introduced to yet she couldn’t for the life of her remember their names. _Podrick Payne_ …

That was the only name that got Sansa’s attention, the only name that made her turn her attention away from her walking. He was slumped down on a chair near the entrance to the servant’s quarters, a woods witch who had made the long journey to Winterfell inspecting his rather bloody face. While he looked in pain, he did not seem to be injured significantly, yet Sansa did not feel relieved, she did not feel anything. She stared at him as she walked past, the witch examining his nose thoroughly, she did not think of stopping. All she could do was walk, staring bewildered at the chaos around her.

Sansa must have walked the entirety of the castle twice before she finally came to a halt, and that was only because she was forced to. Someone had stopped her, had flung their arms around her and pulled her close, compelling her to clutch the dagger in her hand instinctively, in case she needed to use it once more. 

“ _Sansa_.” 

She heard her sister’s voice yet the person attacking her neither looked nor smelled like her sister. In her place, the person was covered in blood, from head to toe, her hug warm and loving, something she had rarely experienced from the girl. As she drew back Sansa confirmed it was Arya, her hair familiarly wild and her clothes considerably dirty.

Instantly, Arya’s eyes searched her perplexed expression, a concern look appearing on her face as she spotted the dagger still grasped tightly in her hand. Quietly, Arya reached and took the dagger away from her, fighting momentarily with the stiff fingers that would not let it leave their grip. Once the dagger was removed, Sansa felt herself breathing again, as if the entire walk she had stopped, like she had forgotten how to live.

“Arya,” Sansa choked back a sob as she finally recognised her sister was in front of her. Still alive, uninjured, and ever the wild little girl she would always remember.

Tears had been running down her face all morning, and it was only with the introduction of new ones at the sight of her sister that Sansa became aware of the stickiness that was on her cheeks. She must look terrible, a shadow of the usual elegance she perpetually displayed. Her face felt dirty, a mixture of dried tears, sweat, and blood, her hair as wild as her sister’s. Long gone was the regal Lady of Winterfell, and in her place stood a broken woman covered in evidence of a frightful night.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” Arya soothed her, her hand grasping hers as she pulled her along the corridors to their living quarters.

Reluctantly, Sansa gave in, letting herself be led by her little sister, entirely giving in to her will. As they passed a worried looking serving girl, Arya hastily asked her to retrieve some water for them and have it brought to her bedroom, to which the girl nodded and began scurrying off to the kitchens to retrieve the request. Her sister hurried through the Great Hall, and through the door at the back, revealing the entrance to their quarters and the dead bodies that were still there in the corridor. The two strode passed them, neither one giving them much attention before they moved through the main door, relieved in the sight that behold them. There was no dead bodies in there, no blood, no smell of death, and from the warmth that hit them when they entered, their servants had already been inside and lit the fires, ready for their ladies and lords to return there.

Arya pulled her along, past the study and the sitting room, past Bran’s bedroom and up the stairs to the other section of their family home. Her hand was warm in hers, a steady reminder that the both were still there, that they were still alive and had won the war. Sansa found herself grateful for the touch, the two acting like sisters should after years of animosity between the two. Long forgotten was all the arguing, all the name calling, and in its place was the love and respect that their mother would have cried at the sight of. Arya was a pain, she always would be, but she was her annoyance, and she would never stop loving her for it.

They entered her bedroom, the room that once belonged to their mother and father, and closed the door behind them, each giving a sigh of relief at the thought of being fully protected from witnessing the horrors of war outside the comfort of the room. As with the rest of the quarters, Sansa’s fire had been lit and was casting an orange glow throughout the room, mixing with the dewy light coming from her windows in the morning sun. 

Arya set the dagger down on the table by the fire, before turning to Sansa with a determined look upon her face. Swiftly, she walked towards her sister, her hands, steady unlike Sansa’s, pulling at the ties of her cloak and releasing it from her shoulders. Folding the article over her arm, Arya placed it on a nearby chair, ready to be washed when the servants had a moment to do so. A clean set of clothes were already waiting for her, laid out on the back of the seat by her bed, her servants already doing their duties despite the night they had all had. Turning her around, her hands firmly gripping the tops of her arms, Arya began her attack on the laces of her dress, untying the knots as best as she could. 

“Gods – can you even dress yourself? This is ridiculous!” Arya groaned frustratedly, her hands frequently slipping from the stubborn ties. 

“Not really,” Sansa mumbled, moving her hair out of the way so Arya could have a better look.

It only took Arya a moment longer before the dress was pulled down, ending in a pool at her feet. Sansa stepped out of it, and her sister quickly bent down to scoop up the discarded fabric, it was only when she was moving away with it that Sansa’s saw the drops of blood, her people’s blood, that had stained it. 

Before they could get to removing her underclothes, there was a knock on the door. The servant girl had returned with a jug of water and a bowl, and she hurried into the room, placing the items on the table before leaving, her eyes never meeting the pair.

“Sit.” Arya ordered as she collected the water, bringing it closer to the chair beside the fire Sansa had decided to perch on.

“The dead rose.” Sansa stated ominously as Arya poured water into the bowl and began to soak a piece of cloth. 

“We didn’t think of that.” Her sister sighed, beginning to wipe Sansa’s face. The water was cool against her skin. 

“We should have.”

Sansa’s mind wandered to all the people who had died that night, all the people who could have easily been saved if they had just placed a couple of fighters down the crypt with them. It infuriated her that she had not thought of it, that placing innocents in a place filled with the dead when the master of the dead was approaching was not the smartest of ideas. If one of them had thought about it, had thought to question the reasoning behind sending them to the crypts, defenceless people would have not lost their lives.

Arya watched her carefully, not familiar with seeing her sister in such trauma. The sight of her younger sister so concerned for her wellbeing made Sansa grow a deep embarrassment. She was the elder, she was supposed to look after her, not the other way round but Arya had long outgrown her in terms of life experience.

“Did you see father?” Arya gulped, her eyes filled with worry at what would be both of their’s worst nightmare.

Truth was, Sansa was not quite sure who she had seen. There had been bodies everywhere, mummified, putrid bodies coming from every direction possible – one of them could have easily been her father. Yet, she had not seen his tomb disturbed, there had been no breaks nor cracks in the walls, her father had rest easy that night, Sansa was sure of it. 

“I don’t think there is enough of him left.” She sighed bitterly, recognising just why her father had not risen that night. Her anger for the Lannister’s rose in her, something she had not thought of for a while. They had spared her from a nightmare by their previous cruelty, yet she would never be grateful for them. Never would she be fond of them, and never should she trust them again, not even Tyrion, not truly.

* * *

Once she had been cleaned and dressed to Arya’s satisfaction, her sister had left her, alone with her thoughts in a room filled with memories. Her parents had slept in this room, her mother and father both long dead and fondly missed, she had been raped in this room, multiple times, over and over again each night, and more recently it had been the room she was given after finally getting what she had always wanted, a symbol of who she had become. After a night like she had those four walls were too overwhelming to bear. She certainly was not going to sleep there, she would wait for that evening to finally get some rest. Instead, she needed to get out, to remove herself from the memories and her consuming thoughts, to escape from it all.

Donning the new cloak she had been given to replace her usual bloodstained one, Sansa left the room swiftly, not looking back as she left. She hurried along the corridors, past all the blood and bodies still left over, not yet being moved, and out into the courtyard, the chill in the air from both the cold and the lost of life hitting her almost instantaneously. Unlike earlier, Sansa knew her destination, she knew where she needed to be that day and she did not care who saw her do it. 

As she entered the Men-At-Arms quarters, Sansa felt eyes upon her, each set questioning just why she was in their midst. Yet she continued to walk, throwing a steely gaze to anyone who looked at her for longer than a moment. If she thought rationally, she knew the men were not judging her nor did they care much for her actions, instead each of them were watching her simply because she was her, and she was in their area. But in that moment Sansa could not think rationally, in her mind they were questioning her every move, knowing exactly who she was going to and why she was going there. Despite all this doubt, Sansa kept moving, not for one second thinking she should stop. They were going to find out anyway, their kiss in the battlements confirmed that, it was only a matter of time before it spread around the whole castle. 

When she got to her destination, Sansa threw one last look around her, wondering if anyone had their eyes upon her. However, there was none, for his room was tucked away in the depths of the building, away from all the common rooms as a reflection of his status. His door was slightly ajar, an indication that he had either entered or left in a hurry, so Sansa raised her hand to knock, waiting anxiously for a response yet none came. Anxiously, she pushed forward on the door, the heavy wood swinging open to reveal a messy, unorganised but unoccupied room. 

Sighing, Sansa entered, deciding that she would wait for him there as opposed to going searching for him. She had already made the risky trip to come down there, she may as well stay and make it worth while. Closing the door behind her, the room was plunged into near darkness, the only light peaking through the side of the doorframe, illuminating the room so she could just about see her way around. He had clearly left the room in a rush, items of armour and a couple of odd weapons littered the floor of the room as well as papers which on close inspection were all addressed to Lady Brienne. Most peculiarly however was the pile of books she found tucked away into a corner, the books were from her library and each one of them some romantic tale or book of songs. Sansa smiled at his tastes, reminding herself of when she too used to hover over those books like they were holy. That romantic trait had long left her, it had been destroyed along with her innocence, but it was pleasant to see someone still believed in it all.

It was only when a deep shiver ran down her back that she thought about making a fire, the warmth of the castle walls not fully protecting the room from the winter chills. She moved over to the fireplace and instantly she scowled, not quite sure what to do despite seeing a fire made hundreds of times before. Crouching down in front of it, Sansa was determined to learn, the thought of poor Podrick coming back to a frozen room spurring her on. With one hand she picked up the fire striker, and with the other she picked up a rock she knew to be flint, her brow furrowed trying to remember what she should do next. She tried sticking the two together, hoping that she would get some kind of spark from them but all she managed to do was make a loud clanging sound. Sansa groaned in frustration, throwing the items down after a couple of attempts knowing she would never do it. She cursed her privileged upbringing for sheltering her from being able to make the most trivial of things.

Before she could try again, the door to the room swung open causing Sansa jump, she swung round to face it, almost loosing her balance as she continued to crouch low by the unlit fire. The man she had been searching for stumbled into the room, holding something that looked strangely like a wineskin against his face. As he closed the door behind him, she sensed he had not seen her but she chose to remain there, unsure what she should say to a man returning from battle.

He took a step forward before freezing in his track, slowly he removed the cloth like thing and a confused expression grew on his face. Sansa noted that his brow hardly moved, and so too did his cheeks, both barely indicating his feelings without being too painful for him. 

“Sansa?” He muttered apprehensively, almost as if he was questioning her existence

She stood up to meet him, nodding her head to confirm her presence. She thought maybe he had banged his head, thus making him question his reality – she had seen him awfully bloody earlier, it was very plausible that that was the explanation. His face however, was much less bloody than before, it had been cleaned but not throughly, his ears and chin still caked with dried blood.

“I wanted to light the fire but I don’t know how.” She said with a scowl, her frustration at her own failure outweighing any relief she felt at seeing him.

“I’ll do it, pass that here.” He mumbled, throwing the cloth to the bed as he moved towards her.

Quickly she knelt down to give him the striker and the rock, and he took them in one hand, their hands not even making contact. Sansa stood back as he got to work, admiring how he could seem so out of it yet do the job with ease. Within minutes the room was instantly brighter, allowing Sansa to get a better look at the man in front of her as he stood up once more, wobbling slightly at the change of stance.

He looked tired, completely uninterested in the world but moreover her looked destroyed, he didn’t even seem happy to see her. His nose was red and swollen, clearly he had taken a hit there and from the way he had held the cloth to it, she knew it was the source of most of his pain. Otherwise, Podrick looked fairly alright, he held his right arm in an awkward position, like he had strained it or the shoulder but otherwise he seemed in good condition, something that relived her greatly.

She reached behind her, picking up the cloth he had discarded on the bed, shocked at its coolness. It must have been filled with snow or icy water, perfect for reducing swelling and relieving pain. _Smart_ , she thought, never much giving any thought to medicine herself, no wonder he had been walking round the castle with it attached to his face. 

“Are you alright?” She forced out, knowing that she had to speak with him eventually about what had happened, as much as it pained her to.

She had never done this before, never had she had to have this conversation. She thought about kissing him, about pulling him close and relishing in the fact he was alive. Part of her thought she should leave him be, thinking it was presumptuous of her to think he’d want to see her. Moreover, though, she was anxious, scared that she cared about him so much, terrified that she was sick to her stomach with worry about just one man.

“I’ve been better.” He grimaced, placing the cloth back up to his nose with a sigh. “What about you? I heard the dead rose in the crypt.”

“I’ve been worse.” She replied honestly, she much preferred the terror she had felt to what she had experienced with Ramsay. “Is it broken?” She nodded towards him, wincing almost at the pain it must have been causing him.

“They set it back into place, hurt a lot more than it did when it broke.” He chuckled, then moaned slightly at the pain the movement must have caused.

“Let me see.” Sansa strode over to him, her hands pulling his arm away from his face before he even had a chance to reply.

It wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. Across the bridge of his nose he had a gash, and a nasty swelling around it but otherwise there was nothing amiss, no obvious breaks nor bumps. There was however, bruises already yellowing below his eyes, a tell tale sign that he had had some trauma there.

“You’re going to have an awful bruise.” She stated, carefully considering the man’s face. He’d still be handsome, she selfishly thought, although she supposed an obvious break would effect his looks in another way, making him seem stronger, tougher.

“I think my whole body must be bruised.” He chuckled once more, his eyes glazed over.

Podrick was trying his hardest to focus on her, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared at her. He had a carefree look in his eyes despite all the horrors he had witnessed that night, and there was something in the way he stood, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other that suggested his mind was not present to the situation. Yet, unlike the her trance she had experienced earlier, he seemed to be out of it for much more harmless reasons. 

“Have they given you something for the pain?” Sansa smirked, amused at his state of being and already knowing the answer. 

“I had a drop of milk of the poppy.” He nodded, almost loosing his balance completely from his slight movement.

“I can tell, you’re swaying.” She laughed, grasping his arms to hold him steady.

“I don’t know how I’m still standing, to be honest with you.” Podrick groaned, getting more and more groggy by the second as the medicine began to hit him. 

She laughed again, watching as he quickly began to look unsteady on his feet. “You should get some rest, sit down at least.”

Pulling him around, Sansa guided him towards his bed and he collapsed down onto it like his legs had give out underneath him.  Without thinking she pulled the cold cloth away from his face once more and began to untie the plated collar around his neck, removing it completely and placing it on the table beside his bed. Going along with the idea, Podrick discarded the cold cloth completely, and moved to pull the ties at the back of his jerkin, only needing to untie the two before her pulled it over his head, followed swiftly by the heavy chain mail he had been given exposing the bloody undershirt underneath as he tossed the two to the foot of his bed.

It was in that moment, seeing him so vulnerable and out of it, that Sansa’s smile dropped on her face and she understood the reality of the situation. She had almost lost him, he would have been so close to death countless times that night and somehow he had survived. He bent over, tugging off his boots and giving Sansa another angle of his red shirt. He was covered in blood, his entire shirt was plastered with it. Most of which she presumed had come from his face, although some of it, particularly on his back, must have come from other cuts she had yet to find. It only would have taken one wrong step, one cut a little deeper, and he would have been lost forever.

Sansa fell to her knees in front of him, causing him to snap his head up to meet hers in worry. Her hands came up to his face, cradling it carefully and moving his mattered damp hair out of his eyes. Pod stared back at her with wide eyes, unaware what had brought on her sudden display of emotions, as he dropped the boot he was holding to the ground. Sansa felt like she could cry but she would not allow it, instead she tried to control her trembling lip, holding back all her emotions as she took him in. He was here, he was alive, and for a while that was all that would matter to her.

Feeling it over come her, Sansa threw her arms around the man and held him close, feeling him wheeze slightly under her grasp. She did not think she may be hurting him, nor did she care, and from the way his arms came up and encircled her, it was evident that he didn’t either. He smelt of sweat and blood, it smelt like death, yet she did not mind, instead relishing in the feeling of him in her arms, alive and breathing. She laid her head on his shoulder, melting into him, concentrating on the deep rise and fall of his chest like it was a soothing lullaby. 

“I never thought I’d see you again.” She heard him whisper into her shoulder, making her breath catch in her throat. 

She squeezed him tighter, earning a slight groan from Podrick but he returned the newfound pressure nonetheless, pulling her in even closer to him. His hands were around her waist, completely enveloping her in his warmth, supporting her just as much as she was to him. Despite his state, he felt strong, a reminder that not only had he made it through the night but that he had done so in one piece. They had been lucky, they both were aware of that, but next time it might be different.

Pulling away from him, her arms coming up to his jaw, Sansa took a deep breath, reigning in all the emotion that was overwhelming her. He appeared just as delirious as before, but now there was a certain sadness behind his eyes, like all the nights events were finally hitting him. The hands still on her back pulled her closer once more, closing the gap between them as he kissed her soundly. It was only short, and she spent most of the time trying not to catch his nose but it was enough. 

“Ouch.” He moaned as he pulled back from her, making her giggle; the jovial mood once more returning to the room.

“Get some rest, I’ll meet you later.” She stood up, and pushed him on the shoulder, forcing him to lay back against the bed.

“Stay for a bit?” He muttered and swung his legs onto the bed, catching her hand as she has begun to move away.

Sansa turned back to him, watching as he stared at her though half-lidded eyes, already half asleep against his bed. With a sigh she complied and Sansa perched on the bed, pulling his hand onto her lap and intertwining his fingers with hers. She thought about laying down next to him, debating whether or not to fall asleep in his arms but she couldn’t, for she was too afraid to make such a bold move. The last time she had been in bed with a man it had not been a pleasant one, and she wasn’t in any mood that day to overcome her fears even for something as innocence as falling asleep next to a man clearly too inebriated to do anything else.

In its place however, she took to staring at his hand in her lap. She had never payed much attention to his hands before, the thought of them had never crossed her mind. They were big and rough, unlike how she imagined a knights would be in her unrealistic childhood fantasy. At that moment they were dirty too, covered in muck and blood after a hard night’s work, his knuckles look sore, the blood already dried over the cuts he had there - he had clearly swung a few punches that night. Sansa took his fingers like they were the most interesting thing in the world, running her fingers over his hand as she waited for him to fall asleep. She wished she could join him, to go back to her own chambers and fall asleep on her soft furs and forget about her night but she knew she couldn’t, she wouldn’t be able to sleep at that moment even if she tried. It was only a few minutes before his breathing deepened and he fell soundly asleep on the top of his covers, completely out cold to the world around him – Sansa had never been so jealous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was the chapter I had written weeks ago that I felt needed to have some backstory to it. However, I have decided I am going to expand on it! I think I'm only going to go up to the end of season 8, so there wont be too much more of it I'm afraid...


	10. Miles from the Past

* * *

**PODRICK**

* * *

Podrick stared into the chalice of wine in front of him, pondering its fullness as the party raged on around him. He was drunk, not so drunk that he couldn’t stand but drunk enough that the wine had suddenly become some existential matter that he needed to ponder deeply. Although, looking around him he saw that everyone else seemed to be in the same predicament, everyone was high on wine and spirits, high on the fact that they had made it out alive. Even Ser Brienne was drunk, a sight he had never seen previously and doubted he would ever see again, and she had mysteriously disappeared with Ser Jamie Lannister in tow. It had been a long time coming, he thought, ever since the Lannister had arrived Podrick was waiting for them to admit their feelings, it was only a matter of time. With their leaving and Lord Tyrion’s timely departure afterwards, their drinking game had been long forgotten, leaving him sitting alone with only his wine for company.

The lords and ladies were drunk also, Jon was at least a few glasses in and commanding the attention of any drunk he came across, each one paying him the greatest of compliments. He was their king, not in name anymore but definitely in their minds, Podrick was not politically minded but even he could calculate his reputation would cause a rift between the Starks and the Dragon Queen. Sansa… _Sansa_.

Sansa’s eyes had been on him the entire night, he had felt their gaze coming down high from the main table, the pressure not altogether uncomfortable. If he was bolder he would have returned her gaze, he may have even sat with her, enjoying their conversation driven by drunken thoughts. He was too afraid, afraid of the secret getting out to the Dragon Queen, afraid of what people would say. From the looks some of the men were giving him from across the room it was evident that their display before the battle was beginning to spread, many seeming to look at him and questioning its believability. However, from the lack of attention he was receiving, Podrick had concluded that most had decided the rumour could not be true.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Lord Tyrion’s voice brought him away from his wine. 

The Lord staggered over to him, his newly filled wine in his hand dangerously being thrown about as he walked. He pulled himself onto the bench across from him with an infamous smirk. 

“I don’t think I should trouble you with that, my Lord.” Podrick muttered, his words only slightly slurring.

“Podrick,” Tyrion groaned. “You are polite to a fault, you know that? It is very annoying.”

“Sorry, my Lord.” Pod drew his eyes back to his cup, ashamed at the offence he thought he had caused.

“You will forever be a polite man, Podrick, but do accept help when someone is trying to offer you it. You will find yourself getting very lonely if not.” Tyrion lectured, taking a long swig of his wine once he was finished.

For a moment, Podrick pondered telling his old master everything. About Sansa, about her preposition, about their kisses, how he felt he was falling in love with her and all the taboo that came with it. He longed so badly to talk to someone about it, he never could speak with Ser Brienne on the subject, she was much to proper and would scold him relentlessly for their sins. He had no one else besides Sansa he could speak to about the situation he was in, so the thought of being able to speak to Tyrion about it was a welcome one. However, Podrick, despite all his desires to tell his lord everything, decided he could not tell him a thing for Podrick did not know anymore what Tyrion’s loyalties were.

He was close to the Dragon Queen, he was her hand; it would be very easy for him to tell her everything Pod would reveal to him. It was evident to everyone Tyrion’s place was a precarious one, what could be better for him than to tell his Queen some scandalous information about one of her potential future enemies? Podrick did not believe Tyrion would ever harm him, but he didn’t for one moment think Tyrion would not use the information to better his position if he had to.

“You don’t happen to be worried over a certain lady I may or may not have heard rumours about?” Tyrion raised an eyebrow, carefully watching his reaction. 

 He snapped his head up to meet Tyrion’s watchful gaze, his eyes wide in shock that the rumour had managed to reach his lord so fast. Podrick could not make his response anymore obvious and from his movements he inadvertently confirmed to his lord everything he was suspicious of.

“Well I did not expect that to be true.” Tyrion nodded, impressed with his former squire. “Gods, Podrick, you and that magic cock of yours.” He finished with a chuckle.

Anxiously, Podrick drew his attention to the room around him, hoping that no one was listening in to their conversation. It would be the least of his worries for sure, but the thought of someone hearing confirmation of the scandal made him blush profoundly.

“You’re wise to be weary. It is not the easiest of situations to be in by any means and I’ve been in my fair share of secret relationships!” Tyrion grinned jovially but the grin was quickly removed when he saw that Podrick was not sharing his amusement. “Podrick.” He groaned once more, understanding the man’s silence.

Pod looking over at him and swallowed, debating again if he should share for the sake of his own mental state. Tyrion was disappointed in his mistrust, and it pained him to think that his former lord was upset with him, but things were different now, for now he was part of the game. Before he was merely a watcher, seeing the game play out while at little risk at what was happening. Now, however, he was a pawn, someone who could easily loose everything if he made one wrong move. He didn’t know who to trust, he didn’t know what moves to make.

“You can trust me, I don’t know what things my lovely wife has said to you about me but you should know by now you can.” Tyrion rolled his eyes at the mention of Sansa, and Podrick instantly felt the need to come to her defence.

“She hasn’t told me anything.” Podrick said bitterly, rising to the man’s innocent words. He had never spoke so angrily to Tyrion before and it did not feel right, but he wasn’t going to sit there and allow him to speak falsely of Sansa.

Tyrion’s eyebrows were raised, evidently surprised at his former squire’s outburst. He observed him carefully, a hint of pride in his eyes at what he had become. “Even so, you can trust me but I can tell you will not tell me anything. You’re smart to not say anything, you never know when I might need to use it. I’m sure I wouldn’t need to though, you’re the most loyal squire I have ever known, I don’t think I’d betray you like that. You’ve learned a lot since you left my company, Podrick.” He finished and took his leave, defeated in his pursuit to pry information from the young man.

Podrick let out a sigh of relief as his lord moved away, the tension he did not realise he was holding dropping from his body almost immediately. He hated how he was feeling, the apprehension he felt at confiding in his friend and the mistrust he had of him. Deep down he knew Tyrion would not intentionally do anything against him but he did not trust the Dragon Queen if she somehow managed to get it out of him. Would he lie to her? Podrick did not know, and that was exactly why he knew he could not tell him. 

He took a deep drink from his cup and begun to look around the room, searching for something to preoccupy his attention. He saw the Hound sitting with Tormund Giantsbane, his heart broken by the absence of Ser Brienne from the festivities. Then a lady caught his eye from across the aisle, a serving girl who had tried to make a conversation with him at the last feast they had. She was looking at him like she wanted him, her eyes searched him, from his face to his crotch, indicating very obviously to him what she was suggesting. It did turn him on, however, his thoughts were far from the woman in front of him. His attention shifted to the room around him, numerous people had coupled up, many he was sure had never met before, and there was a lingering feeling of lust in the atmosphere, everywhere he looked reminding him of sex and the feeling of a woman’s skin against his own. He thought of Sansa, of course he thought of Sansa, he never could think of anyone else. 

Turning away from the woman in front of him completely, firmly shutting down her advances and any hopes she might have had, Podrick’s thoughts lingered on the woman of his dreams. He thought about touching her, about kissing her right there and then in front of everyone, taking her away from everyone and undressing her in the darkness. Bravely he searched the room for her, finding her leaning against the wall nursing a cup of wine. She was not looking at him, but her eyes quickly met his like iron finding the true north. A smirk grew on her face and her eyebrow raised, amused at finally getting his attention after hours of seeking it. Instinctively, Podrick licked his lips, preparing himself for what he was seeking. He felt himself growing hot under the collar at the thought of it, but he was not nervous, he knew what to do, he had done it many times before. The blush rose on her face, as she laughed to herself, shaking her head at her own thoughts but still, her eyes lingered on him. His brow shot up and then back down suggestively, a cheeky grin braking out as he watched her attempting to hold back her own grin. Podrick found himself wondering what she would look like if he walked over to her and kissed her soundly, would she still blush, would she look at him any differently, slowly all the joy drained from his face and his jaw clenched. His thoughts were far from pure and from the change in her expression she felt it too.

Sensing his desires, Sansa drained her wine, placing the chalice down on a nearby table before walking over to him with a mischievous look in her eyes. Podrick moved on the bench, expecting her to come and sit next to him but instead she walked past him, her hand coming down to graze across his shoulders, lingering there for only a moment before walking away. Podrick swallowed deeply, glancing around him to see if anyone was staring before looking back at the woman, his eyes following the sway of her hips as she walked out of the room. He didn’t even need to think twice before getting up and following in her footsteps, slightly giddy at what could happen.

As he left the hall, he could see her straight in front of him, striding down the hall as if she had somewhere to be. Quickly he followed suit, paying little attention to the number of couples who had taken refuge in the corridor, some kissing, others just talking. Surprisingly, despite the amount of wine he had drunk, he was light on his feet, and he could walk in a straight line behind her confidently. She lead him down another corridor and up some stairs, she never looked back but he knew she was aware he was still following her. Podrick has no idea where they were going for he was not well versed in that part of the castle. They were away from the living quarters, they were to the back of the hall in the opposite direction, and they were not close to his quarters either, all he knew about that part of the castle was the library was there, and maybe even a solar of some sorts.

Sansa came to a halt outside the door he knew to be for the library and glanced back over to him for the first time. The corridor was completely empty, abandoned by all for wine or a more comfortable destination, they were completely alone. Sansa let out a rare girlish giggle before opening the door, pushing the heavy door open by leaning into it and disappeared. Podrick smoothed out his hair, suddenly conscious about his appearance before following her, his heart already racing.

The library was cool and dark, the only light coming from the long, forgotten fire in the back of the room. Sansa was nowhere to be seen, and a moment of panic came across him, unsure about her movement. Yet he quickly found her, inside one of the aisles, studying the books in front of her. She smiled shyly when she saw him approaching, a blush mirroring his own appearing on her face. She seemed nervous, apprehensive, but the way her hands found his in the darkness confirmed to him that she was just as excited as he was. He intertwined their fingers, pulling her closer and staring down at her. She bit her lip in anticipation, all evening they had thought of each other, even more so when they watched everyone couple off, their upcoming actions brought them both into a state on trepidation. Without further ado, he closed the gap between them, exposing the both of them to the overwhelming lust they were both feeling, allowing it to wash over them. 

The kiss was instantly hungry and needy, like wolves who had not been fed in while. Her hands squeezed his before moving to his forearms, her fingers searching as if she wished to be touching his bare skin. He took her prying hands as a sign and deepened the kiss, his hands moving to grasp her face and pull her closer. It earned a _hmph_ from Sansa, making him smile as he continued to kiss her harder, their bodies crushed together, their hands struggling to pull the other even closer. Podrick relishing in the feeling of her warmth so close to him, the slight taste of wine on her lips, a reminder of just what was driving their passions yet neither of them cared. All they wanted was each other, and that was the only thing that mattered.

Her arms had moved to his waist, grasping at his jerkin unsuccessfully, as she returned the kiss with more force than she had ever done before. She wanted him, just as much as he wanted her, her ladylike demeanour was long forgotten and was replaced by another, wilder one. It drove him crazy, the feeling of her hands desperately trying to grab him, her lips attacking his more so than that day in the crypt, she was his everything and he was her's. Silently, he moved them backwards, until Sansa was flat against the shelves behind her. One hand reached behind her for some stability, grasping onto the shelf like his life depended on it, without that support, Podrick felt that his knees would give way, falling to the floor like the lovesick fool he was.  

Sansa let out a giggle against his lips at her shock of his movements, and Podrick chuckled with her, his fingers getting tangled in her hair and slowly undoing her intricate braids with his gentle pulls. He felt young again, like the teenager he was back in King’s Landing discovering women for the first time, like he had no care in the world, nothing to think about apart from what was happening in that moment. With her hair partly undone, falling around her shoulders like a halo, he ran his fingers through it, its softness unlike anything he’d ever felt, a sign of her high birth and background. His lips made their way across her jaw, finding a spot close to her ear that made her gasp and tighten her grip on him, and he felt himself becoming completely undone, surrendering himself to the moment. He reached her neck, her long and delicate neck, it tasted like he imagined, clean and soft, like the Lady of Winterfell should. Her hand found his hair, grasping onto it and flickering between attempting to pull him back to her lips and pushing him in closer, it hurt but he liked it. In that moment Pod thanked the Gods he had had a thorough wash before the night’s festivities, removing all the dried blood and dirt from his body, as he thought there would be nothing more embarrassing than a lady enjoying his touch between all the grim and mess.

Eventually, Sansa managed to remove him from her neck and kissed him soundly, pushing against him and forcing him to take a step backwards. Her hands came to his chest, he could feel their steady pressure through his armour, a reminder that she was strong and in command of him. Podrick allowed himself to be backed up against the opposite shelf, the wood digging into his back uncomfortably and he almost felt bad for subjecting her to the same feeling. But her lips were on his, her hands roaming, and suddenly all thoughts he had about the shelf against his body were completely forgotten. They broke apart for a moment, and she smirked at him, proud of her handiwork and he found it completely irresistible. She could do anything she wanted to him, leave him, bed him, kill him – he would do anything for her, she knew it, he knew it, and the thought of the power she had over him was enough to make his breeches tighten.

Her cool gaze dropped to his chest, and then back up to meet his eyes, as if she was considering something or just taking him in, he was not sure. Sansa smiled, a playful glint lingering behind it, before she pulled him closer once more, enjoying having him just where she wanted him. Submitting to her authority, Podrick placed his hands on her hips, moving them closer to his own, showing her that he would go along with whatever she wanted. Then a hand moved lower, and lower, until her had a firm grip on her backside, groping at it the best he could through her thick dress. She moaned against his lips. He had made Sansa Stark moan with desire, and it spurred him on further. Knowing she would enjoy it, his leg moved between hers, putting pressure there which she welcomed, arching herself into his touch, her kisses getting heavier. He opened his lips, allowing her tongue to enter, their kiss getting more heated as he begun to pull at the ties that lined the back of her dress. He was almost successful at untying one before she pulled away from him, her hands forcing her backwards like it pained her to do so.

“No, not here.” She panted, untangling herself from him, the back of her hand coming up to wipe her mouth.

She was a sight to see. The Lady of Winterfell, her hair wild – half up half down, her cheeks flushed and her eyes narrowed, filled with bewilderment and desire. Pod admired his accomplishment, proud of what he had created and eager to ravish her even further. Sansa stared at him through the darkness, her eyes heavy and keen, and she grabbed his arm before tugging him along the aisle and out of the room. Her hand slipped down to his as they walked, her fingers prying his open, and it dawned on the both of them that was the first time they had walked hand in hand, through the open corridors of Winterfell, not caring who saw. Yet there was no one around, no one to see the unkempt lady and her blushing squire following close behind, they were all preoccupied with their own conquests that night or finding solace in sleep or wine. It was only when they reached the courtyard that they found other people, _lots_ of people. 

Podrick gulped nervously as he took them all in, yet it did not seem to affect his lady. Instead she continued to pull him along, bowing her head only slightly so no one could figure it was her, although he suspected no one would be paying them much attention. The cold air effected his lungs, burning his throat but otherwise he did not feel it, the alcohol and the desire warming him significantly and protecting him. Even though they entered the servants’ quarters and not the one where he resided, he knew where she was taking him, choosing to take the least walked path instead of the more direct one. The Men-at-Arms’ quarters would be filled with men, most of whom deemed not important enough to go to the feast and instead they had decided to hold their own party. Podrick had been invited with the promise of ale and whores, yet he had turned it down, choosing instead to celebrate with his friends and his love. Still, the rooms would be filled with people, each of them knowing what their lady looked like. If they choose to walk in the front door, it would create a scene, all eyes upon them. 

So, instead they walked past the kitchens, the rooms bustling with people coming to retrieve more wine and washing pots, past all the store rooms right to the back, and climbing up the staircase that would lead them straight to the back of the Men-At-Arms’ block, near his room and far from the hustle of the celebrations. They were in luck when they reached the section, for they found no one there, not a soul lined the corridors on the way to his room. Sansa turned to him with a grin, and immediately she pulled him in for a kiss, his hands wrapping around her waist. He moved to the door, finding the handle before anyone could come round the corner and see their lady in such a compromised position. They almost dropped through the door, both of them losing their footing as the door swung open, and the two stumbled into the room, their lips still attacking each other. Breaking away, Podrick closed the door and bolted it, bringing them both to the reality of the situation.

Nervously, Sansa stepped away from him, her hands wrapping around herself as she tried to comfort herself from her rising anxiety. Pod groaned to himself as he remembered what she would be nervous about, thinking himself a fool for not thinking of it sooner. The last time she had been touched it had been brutal, the only times she had ever bedded a man had been aggressive and rough, she had never had consensual sex, she was bound to be apprehensive. With a sigh, he moved passed her to throw another log on the fire, careful not to look at her for fear of frightening her further. He moved over to his bed, he sat down and removed his boots, throwing them under the bed and out of sight before raising his head to meet her steady gaze.

“Are you sure you want to do this? We have had a lot of wine.” He muttered, his question much deeper and held more underlying meaning than both of them could comprehend.

_Do you want this? Do you really want to do this after all that has happened?_ He was offering her an escape, a moment free of consequences to run, to stop this before they could start. She was her own woman, she knew her own mind, but he did not want to be responsible for making her relive the torture if she was not ready. Frankly, he would go without sex the rest of his life if it meant he could be with her, he wanted it, yes, but he could live without it if he had her. 

Yet Sansa stood resilient, her eyes never once breaking from his. Slowly her hands moved to her neck, removing the chain that always hung there and dropped it to the stone floor. Then, her hands moved behind her, untying the leather straps that wrapped around ger chest, before they joined her chain on the floor. Podrick leaned back on his hands and breathed deeply, the simple act of removing her accessories affecting him deeply. A slight leer appeared on her face at the reaction she was receiving. 

“If I don’t do this now, I doubt I ever will.” She spoke softly, nervously, her hands moving to her hair, pulling it completely down where his hands had missed.

Pod nodded, not understanding the logistics of it but knowing she knew what she wanted, relieved that she was going to go through with it. He wanted her, he wanted her against his pillows, he wanted to see her completely undone in his arms, to tease him with the thought and then stop it before it came into fruition would have been torturous. Sansa walked towards him, her hands finding his shoulders as she came to a stop between his legs. She towered over him, her eyes searching his own as if she had a million things to say yet cold not think of a single thing. All he could do was stare back, resolved to letting her take the lead, letting her do what she wanted, and he would follow, to do as little and as much as she liked.

“I need this.” She whispered, her hand coming up to stroke his cheek before she turned around, moving her loose hair over her shoulder.

He knew what she wanted, and without a second thought he moved to untie the laces there, the wine making it hard for his brain to undo a few of the knots. When he was finished, he pulled the dress open, like he had done so many times before, to so many different women, but unlike before he dropped his hands, not wanting to pursue the undressing any further without her permission. The breath hitched in his throat as she turned back around to face him, her hands pushing the dress off her shoulders as she shimmied herself out of it. She stepped out completely, her feet pushing the dress behind her and her hand came back to his shoulder, as she worked on pulling off her own boots. He could see her breasts through the thinness of her slip, and he tried his hardest not look at them, but every now and then he couldn’t help it and his gaze lowered away from her face. Sansa grinned at his meekness, appreciating that he was trying his best to stall any instincts he had and once her boots were off she wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him in for a chaste kiss, letting him know she respected his restraint.

Sansa pulled away and looked at his chest, biting her lip as her eyes flashed back up to him. He got the message, and began to undo his jerkin, pulling it over his head with a bit of a struggle which made her snigger. He grinned at her as he threw it aside and moved to pull of his chainmail, knowing she would not be able to lift it if she tried. Once he was left in his shirt and his ever-tightening breaches, Sansa’s hands began to wonder, her palms warm against his chest.  She lingered on his shoulders, on his pecks, on his stomach, all the while she stared down at him curiously, her eyes following her hands exploring like it was the most fascinating thing on the earth. He could not stop looking at her, watching her expression, seeing the inquisitive look upon her face, he thought she was the most beautiful thing in the world. Her hands reached the hem of his shirt, tugging at it until he compiled and lifted his hands above his head, the shirt quickly being discarded along with the rest of their clothes.

Sansa’s eyes widened as she continued her pursuit, this time her hands were on his skin, on the hair he had on his chest. The feeling of her hands against him, the feeling of skin on skin was almost unbearable, and it took every ounce of his restraint to stop himself from retaliating and pulling her down onto the bed. In its place he continued to watch her, gawking as she bit her lip slightly, her brow furrowed as if she was deep in thought. Suddenly her eyes flickered back to his, discovering his careful gaze and a deep blush crept up on her face at being caught. Sansa smiled shyly, before her hands moved away from him to the ties at the front of her slip. Podrick’s breath quickened as his eyes dropped to watch her movements, his heart racing at the thought of all his dreams coming true. 

Finally, as the clothing came undone, he allowed himself to touch her, gently pulling the fabric down from around her shoulders until it pooled at the ground beneath her leaving her only in her smallclothes. He exhaled as he took her in, his hands lingering on her stomach, on her sides, brushing over her breasts before his eyes came to meet hers once more. 

“You’re beautiful,” He stumbled out, resulting in a wide grin from her.

Licking her lips she pushed him back slightly, allowing herself to settle on his lap and her welcomed the weight against him. His hands came around to her back, his fingers feeling the slight raises of past scars there as he relished the feeling of her breasts against his chest after weeks of imagining it. Sansa kissed him, fully and passionately, the chasteness of their previous movements completely forgotten. He ground into her, no longer caring if the feeling of him through his breaches would scare her, he needed her to know how much he needed this, how much he wanted her. Surprisingly she did not seem to be unnerved by it, in fact she relished it, pushing her own hips back against him and continued to kiss him hard, her fingers lost once more in his hair. Without warning, she pushed him back against the bed, and he gripped onto her hips as he repositioned himself against the pillows, his breaches and her smallclothes the only things stopping her from having her way with him but that would be soon rectified.


	11. Miles from Sleep

* * *

**SANSA**

* * *

Sansa stared at the ceiling above her, counting the stones, looking at the grey tiles like they were a marvel of engineering. However, her mind was not engaged with those stones, instead it was on the man that laid beside her, his arm carelessly slung over her, a constant reminder of what they had done.

She could not sleep that night, so instead she stayed awake, pondering life and smiling at what it may have in store. She blushed when she thought of the night, of his hands and his lips, of how he had touched her and made her feel special. Moreover, she thought about how she had the power, how she had all the control for he had given it to her completely. One day maybe she would allow him it, to completely have his way with her and surrender herself to his movements but she was not there yet, she didn’t trust him fully. It saddened her to think, here was a man she knew to be kind, and with pure intentions and she could not allow herself to entirely trust him when it came to being intimate, she had too many nightmares about that subject to feel comfortable with any man in that regard. She had done it though, taken the leap she had been teetering over for weeks, and she was proud for it felt like one little victory she had taken from her past tormentors. She was close to crying when she thought about the past, about how cruel life had been to her, about how she had finally bedded a man because of her own desires and that it didn’t cause her any pain. Moreover, Sansa thought about him, his smile, his steadiness, the risk of their relationship. She was in love with him, she had realised, or at least she thought she was, she was never quite sure.

It had dawned on her that night her feelings for him, how he made her stomach flutter with just one look, how she’d go weak at the knees with just one kiss. She was in love with a squire, with a southerner, with a Payne. Life had turned out for her completely different to what she had expected but she was happy about the change. Sansa didn’t feel ready to tell him that though, things could change and they had a number of things working against them. Perhaps she would do one day, once everything has settled, and perhaps he would even say it back.

She turned her head to look at him, the smallness of the bed causing him to be close, almost uncomfortably close but not quite. _Was he in love with her?_ She thought as she took him in, completely blacked out to the world around him. He was on his front, his head turned towards her, giving her a good look at the darkening bruises that lingered under his eyes, reminding her of the trauma he had lived through. He did not snore as she had expected but instead his long, steady exhales lulled her into a feeling of security. He was there, he was alive, and the regular beat of his breaths comforted her, reminding her of his presence.

With a sigh, Sansa rolled onto her side, careful not to wake the man besides her. He needed his sleep, he had spent the last few days either fighting for his life or lugging heavy bodies around along with the other men, the least she could do to repay him would be to let him sleep. Sansa became slightly flustered at the thought, she had repaid him in other ways, other ways she was sure he preferred to sleep, although they didn’t feel like a favour at the time. Maybe he thought of it that way, she worried, maybe he thought she had only bedded him out of gratitude but his fixed breath on her face stopped her silliness, distracting her from her thoughts.

He looked like child when he slept, completely out of sorts from the world around him, allowing himself to be completely relaxed with his surroundings. With a smile, Sansa brought a hand up to sweep the hair that lingered upon his forehead back, earning a quick and sudden exhale from Podrick yet he did not wake. Contemplating for a moment, she watched him, and her mind raced with thoughts of the future, of what they had to do to stop the upcoming onslaught of criticism that was evidently coming their way. She would fight for them, she had told him that much already, nevertheless Sansa pondered how much her words were true. There was a limit to her plight, Sansa understood that and it pained her to admit; if ever it came down to him or the North, she already knew her answer yet she hoped that day would never come. Pushing the thought aside, Sansa decided to live in the moment, to appreciate lying in his small bed, his arm around her, while she still could.

Anxious not to wake him, her hand came to his back, feeling the broadness of his shoulders beneath the threadbare quilt. It had surprised her how strong he had felt under his clothes, he was not outwardly muscular (she had expected that much) yet he was lean and solid, and under her fingers she had felt his hardness and it had scared her at first. Podrick could have his way with her if he wanted, he could have forced her further without even trying, for she could not fight as he was twice her size and thrice as strong – perhaps even more. Still, she had given him the power to hurt her, given him the opportunity to frighten her if he wished, she had taken that risk. Sansa supposed that was what love was, to give someone the power to harm you, be it physically or mentally, and if so then she certainly felt it towards Pod.

Her fingers slipped under the cover, feeling the smoothness of his skin across his back. On his right shoulder he had a cut, not very deep but not shallow either. From the redness she had caught a brief glimpse of as he had ventured between her legs that previous night, she reckoned it was from the battle, a rouge blade that hit him exactly in his armour’s weakness, between the neck and the shoulder where only his jerkin could protect him. As her fingers grew near to it, Sansa felt an odd surge of overprotective instincts, as if she would do anything in her ability to have stopped that blade from hitting him. Just as her fingertips had brushed the raised skin on his shoulder, a groan erupted from the man besides her causing her to snap her hand away from him - clearly the wound was more tender than she was expecting.

His eyes fluttered open momentarily before he squeezed them shut again, his brow furrowing intensely. He hummed in anguish, frowning at his tender body as he became aware of the world around him. The arm that was carelessly thrown around her tightened its grip, pulling her closer and deeper into his warmth. His hand, flat against her back, began to move its fingers, lightly dancing over her skin and sent shivers down her spine. Relaxing, Sansa shuffled closer to him, yielding to his advances and basking in the feeling of his skin against hers. It did not wake a desire inside of her like she had felt the previous night but in its place she felt comfort, a sense of belonging that she was only just beginning to understand; her was hers, like she was his, and nothing else truly mattered.

“Everything aches.” He muttered sleepily into the pillow, a deep frown upon his face.

She smiled, aware that he was referring to far more than the matching dull ache in his head from the wine that she herself was beginning to support. She had seen the bruises covering his torso, his back and chest littered with deep purple swellings as if he had been constantly bombarded by bodies, the cuts all along his body, each only light and would not scar but were sore nonetheless. Then there was the mental weight, she felt it herself and she had only seen a snippet of death, it was tiring, draining, and Sansa was not quite sure how she was managing to function let alone considering what he was feeling. Everyone in the castle was somehow managing to get by, acting like the living dead, sluggish and slow yet merry, happy to be alive – no one wanting to dwell on their thoughts. 

“Too much wine?” Sansa smirked choosing to discuss their growing headaches instead of the more prominent reason for his weariness.

“Yes.” He grumbled, remembering the drinking games that he had stupidly chosen to participate in that evening.

Finally, his eyes opened fully, blinking quickly as he adjusted to seeing her face so close to his. Sansa’s heart quickened at the grin he flashed upon seeing her for the first time that morning. His eyes remained half lidded, dangerously close to closing once more as his hand trailed up to her arm, running his fingers across her. Once he met her gaze, his face grew concerned and his hand stopped its movements on her arm.

“Have you not slept?” Podrick pushed himself up on his free arm, turning to face her properly, staring down at her in worry.

“No, I couldn’t.” Sansa reluctantly sighed, knowing there was no point in lying to him. At her words Podrick removed his arm from her, a growing sense of alarm overcoming his body. “No, it’s not you!” She smiled slightly as his sweetness. “It’s just, I don’t know… I didn’t expect this and I think it’s a little overwhelming.” 

With an exhale, Podrick fell back against the pillows, content with her answer. His gaze was towards the ceiling, much like her own had been moments earlier, deep in thought at her words. Sansa watched him curiously, missing the feeling of his skin on hers. She was too preoccupied that night with her own thoughts to consider what he must have been thinking, what he worried about and what he felt about the situation. Clearly, from the resolute expression on his face, he had a lot of thoughts about what they were, deep thoughts that seeped into his very being. Sansa was quickly learning that while Podrick wore his heart on his sleeve, he was a deep thinker and he thought about things long and hard before he decided to put them on display. 

Seeming to reach a conclusion to his inner dialogue, Pod swung his head to the side, his lips pulled into a tight smile. Without giving it much thought, Pod stretched out his arm, inviting her into him which she accepted hesitantly, unsure of what he was asking. She moved closer, uncertain what to do with her body or how to act as she had never done it before, nor had she been told how. It was silly really, she had just slept with the man yet the simple act of cozying up to him was enough to send her mind spinning.

“I understand. I do have the Lady of Winterfell in my bed after all.” He grinned, and firmly pulled her against him, as if sensing her trepidation.

Sansa settled against his shoulder, one arm trapped between his body and the bed yet it was not uncomfortable, the other came to rest gingerly on his chest, frozen there as if she was too scared to move it even briefly. If he was aware of her fear, he did not point it out, choosing instead to draw his hand up her back, his breathing deepening. The two fell into silence, the only sounds in the air coming from the lingering fire that was beginning to die.

The silence gave Sansa a chance to contemplate his words. While they were meant in a jovial manner, there was something more sinister hidden behind them, a ghostly notice that things were not as peaceful as they both thought. He was in bed with the Lady of Winterfell, moreover, the Lady of Winterfell was out of her bed, in the arms of a man far from her bedroom – there was no way that would go unnoticed. Her chamber maid would find her bedroom empty in the morning and report it to her superiors, then it would spread through the servants quarters like a fire to a torch. On top of that, the current rumour of what the two had spent the last moments before the battle doing was circulating the castle, it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Swiftly and without a need for a public announcement, their secret would be out, opening them up to face the opinions of everyone living under her roof. She had little control over what would be said and she scolded herself for not being more careful, mortified even at her careless actions. It did not bother her that people knew, in fact she was of the opinion the sooner it happened the better would be best for everyone, but she had wanted to orchestrate the situation herself, moulding the reactions of her lords to reach the best outcome. Now, instead of hearing it from her they would hear it from whispers, forming their own ideas long before she could get a chance to tell them what they should be thinking. 

“We won’t stay secret for much longer.” Sansa scowled, her fingers beginning to play with the coarse hair she felt under palms.

If Sansa was thinking rationally she would get dressed and leave before anyone discovered she was missing from her bed yet she did not have the heart to. She wanted to stay with every fibre of her being, to stay wrapped up in his arms where no one could harm her. Sansa felt a strange shift in her thoughts that evening, like them sharing a bed had changed things between them. Unlike the night before, Sansa had no desire of making decisions without him, like they were a team or one body, each needing the other to think logically and complete the other’s sentences. No, she would not decide upon anything about them without consulting him first, nor did she have any plans of doing so in the future.

“No.” He sighed, equally understanding the gravitas of the situation. “Lord Tyrion knows, he asked me about it.”

Her eyes grew wide in shock, staring up at him as if he had told her something utterly nonsensical; Sansa was not expecting those words to come out of his lips. For so long she had considered her lords’, her siblings’ and her men’s reactions to her relationship, she had even considered the threat of Queen Daenerys and what she might do with the information, but she had never once thought about her former husband finding out about her and his squire. She supposed her downfall was that connection, never for once thinking he might not have the best intentions for them, more so for his connection with Pod than with her. Lord Tyrion thought of Pod as a son, she had realised that all the way back in King’s Landing, and she didn’t for one second consider that he may not have his best intentions in mind. But Sansa knew never to trust a Lannister, even one so kind as Lord Tyrion, and she wasn’t quite sure what to make of the information. 

“And what did you say?” Sansa asked worriedly, all the worst outcomes circling her head.

“Nothing. I couldn’t say anything.”

Sansa frowned at his remark, finding herself rather cross with his silence. Lord Tyrion would no doubt know their relationship to be true from his silence, and Pod clearly did not engage with him enough to gain some sort of understanding as to what he planned to do with the information. If she had been there things would have been different, she’d perhaps not even allow the conversation to get to that point, choosing instead to distract him and speak of other things. Yet, in her frustrations, she had to remind herself that Podrick was not politically minded, neither did he know how to speak with political players without being honest and truthful. Instead, she supposed she should be grateful for his freshness, even if it did cause them quite a bit of trouble – although part of her was already planning how she could stir him away from such practices. 

“Do you think he will tell the Queen?”

While she did not appreciate his lack of diplomatic abilities, she did trust his judge in character and questioned what he, who knew Lord Tyrion so much better than herself, thought about the situation.

“No. He wouldn’t do that, I don’t think so anyway. Not even if it would be greatly beneficial to him.” Pod considered his words carefully, speaking them as if they were something he had thought upon for quite some time, and Sansa reckoned he had. “I do think she will find out though. Lord Tyrion used to always tell me never to lie to women – for some reason they always seemed to find out the truth, and I don’t think the Queen will be any different.”

His remark lightened her mood, and Sansa found herself smiling at the innocence of his statement. She supposed it was true, from her experience she had found women to be the more intuitive sex, always listening, always keeping watch. She herself seemed to find out everything about everyone, for not only did women listen, but women talked. She knew all about the servants’ dramas, knew all about which girls slept with which lords and which ones preferred the company of men, she could tell who was in love with who, who hated each other, and who spoke privately. Before, Sansa presumed she knew all of this because it was her job, for she was their lady and it was her duty to be in tune with her people, but perhaps there was logic in his theory, maybe she knew some of this purely because she was a woman. Sansa felt empowered by the notion, claiming the theory as a victory over the men who had so easily dominated society for so long. Times were changing though, and if Sansa knew all this information she was certain the Dragon Queen would be quickly collecting it all too.

Queen Daenerys had turned into a thorn at her side, always questioning her, always rebuking every idea that would be beneficial to everyone just because it came from her – Sansa felt it all infuriating. Jon presumed their distaste for each other came from the fact they were both powerful women and that was what powerful women supposedly do, but he was far from the truth. Powerful women, if they did happen to dislike each other, did so for the reason powerful men disliked each other: for political or financial reasons, not because one was prettier than the others. Jon she knew only thought like that because he didn’t want to see the truth, choosing instead to dismiss her worries as petty instead of questioning his Queen, but so many others thought that too, and many of them would end up dead or out of power as a result. 

For as long as Jon stayed in favour with the Queen, Sansa knew Podrick would be untouched, for Daenerys would not do anything if she thought it would harm her relationship with her brother. She was in love with him, Sansa was certain, and from hearing the stories of what she had been through, so similar to her own, she knew that her love was not be easily given. However, once things soured, which Sansa believed they would, she supposed the two would become public enemies and Podrick would be the first target if Daenerys decided to play dishonestly.

Listening to his steady breathing once again, Sansa begun to make a plan for that eventuality, thinking of all the ways she could ease the situation. She supposed she should marry him, the sooner the better, for it would be much easier to murder the secret paramour of a lady than one she was publicly married to, then any act against him would be an attack on her people which would certainly make the Queen think twice. However, Sansa was not sure she even wanted to get married again, not even to Podrick, and that was without considering his own opinions on the subject (although she supposed they both would go through with it if it meant saving his life). Furthermore, she would try to keep Lord Tyrion on her side, for if any of her advisors could help fight her cause it would be him. She would sweeten him up, feed him pointless information in the disguise of something more important, Tyrion had lost his way, he would not know the difference. Then there was the matter of her bannermen…

Sansa exhaled loudly, shifting her thoughts to the back of her mind to ponder over at another moment. It would be a big move, and it would take a lot of effort, something she was not sure she had the strength for. She would think about it another time, but for now she would enjoy her position, curling into him with a comfortable ease she was only just beginning to feel. The whole situation was rather strange to her, somehow more intimate than the nights previous activities but she supposed that was primal, a desire that was within her that she had needed desperately to feed; Laying with him, wrapped up in his arms as naked as the day she was born was something else, something that require much more vulnerability than she was used to.

“I wish this was easier.” Sansa absentmindedly breathed into his neck, taking in his scent like it was something sacred, like she wanted to remember it forever.

“We could always run away. Go off to the country, get married, have a few kids and die years later, happy and warm.” Podrick moved to look at her, a playful grin spread across his face. 

Sansa decided to humour him, to go along with his thoughts despite the lingering notion that it could never happen. “Because that certainly would work. For starters where would we live, where would we get the money?”

“Steal a few jewels before you go.” He shrugged. 

“And how will I be able to sell them?” Sansa grinned, satisfied with outwitting him.

“There’s always people wanting to buy, you just need to look in the right places.”

Sansa pulled back slightly so she could look at him questioningly, her eyebrows raised. “You know this how?”

“Everyone knows someone.” Pod muttered nonchalantly, choosing to ignore her shock and remain in his own fantasy.

While Sansa understood he was just joking around, she had a suspicion that perhaps he was not kidding about knowing someone who dealt with the black market and the thought had surprised her greatly. Pod was full of surprises, many of which she had discovered that night, and Sansa found herself wondering just how much she had yet to learn about the man.

“You think I should have a say in the fact I’m marrying a man with criminal connections?” Sansa huffed and dropped back to his shoulder, earning a light chuckle from the man that vibrated the skin under her ear.

“I’d get a job. Something quiet, like farming or some kind of scholarly trade – messenger perhaps. You have to find a job way below your station I’m afraid, someone will recognise you if not. Maybe a teacher, or a septa to a minor Lord –“

“Septas can not marry.” She cut him off, if they were going to have a fictional life she was adamant it would be one that made sense.

“A teacher then, maybe in a sept or some town. We could make it work, buy a house with its own fireplace – get a dog. I’ve always wanted a dog.” 

A dog – she had a dog once, well a direwolf, and she had treated it to the best of her ability. The incident with Joffrey was one of her deepest regrets, if ever she would have another dog she would do right by it, loving it as if it was one of her own children. Moreover, the thought of sharing a dog with him made her smile, one that would follow in his footsteps and one he would undoubtedly slip scraps of food from their table without her permission, they would be the perfect family.

“Why don’t we go abroad, go travelling? No one will know us there.” She proposed, remembering the city of dogs Old Nan had told her about once before bed. Sansa knew it to be just a story, one the old woman had made up to get her to fall asleep, but who was to say it could not be real in their imagination? 

The idea, however, made Podrick scoff, evidently unimpressed with the thought. “And learn a new language? Anyway, I’m certain I’d end up burning, I went close to Dorne once and turned as red as a tomato. I don’t think that would be for the best.” 

Sansa let out a laugh, a deep hearty laugh at the thought of him miserable and red, sitting under the hot sun burning like a piece of meat over a fire. She was laughing more and more these days, be it from jokes with him or her siblings, and slowly but surely, Sansa was beginning to feel like her carefree self again, the one who had yet to see the world outside of the walls of Winterfell. She was changed though, now wearier and stoic, much like her father had been – she supposed he was that way from seeing the reality of the world, just like her. However, before she had time to dwell on the subject any longer, Sansa noticed his stare, a stare much different than his previous ones.

“What?” Sansa blushed, suddenly becoming self-conscious.

She could tell from the look in his eyes that something had shifted within him to look at her like that. Certainly from the slight smile on his face it was not a bad thought, but the thought unnerved her nonetheless. She could not stand not being in control, not being able to understand exactly what he was thinking and why he was thinking it, and the look behind his eyes she could not interpret at all for she had never seen it before.

He spoke as if the words came easily, not hesitating for a moment.

“I’m falling in love with you." 

His words lingered in the air like a thick tension, loitering between them, hanging there waiting solemnly for a response. Sansa drew a quick inhale of breath, her eyes quickly shutting for she could no longer look at him. He was staring at her still, the stare that meant he _loved_ her, and she didn’t know how to respond to it. She swallowed hard, her mind completely void of words she could use in response, she didn’t know what to think, what to do, instead all she could do was exist, listening carefully to his quickening breaths.

“Sansa?”

She heard the worry in his voice, she felt his hand stop its movements on her back, she could feel him beginning to panic beside her. Yet she could not move, she could not open her eyes to meet his gaze, she could not answer his questions.

_He loved her._

The words replayed in her mind over and over again, debating whether she was dreaming or not, considering every letter, every breath she heard him take reminding her of them. She pressed her eyes shut, as if by doing so would help her understand the elated feeling that was overwhelming her, to keep it at bay and to keep control over her emotions. 

Eventually her eyes blinked open, and she found her vision to be blurred from the onslaught of tears that had rose to her eyes. She had not realised they were there, somehow she had forgotten the world around her, oblivious to what her body was doing choosing instead to focus on her thoughts. When her gaze met his, they began to fall, and she quickly wiped them away, not wishing to admit to herself how much those words had meant to her.

“Sorry – I just didn’t think I’d ever hear that.” Sansa murmured, taking a deep breath as she tried her hardest to regain her composure.

This was not her, she was not a blubbering mess, and she certainly was not one to cry at any little words of affection that came her way. She sat up, her hands coming to her face, the warmth from the bed long leaving her newly exposed back but she did not feel the cold air surrounding her, in its place she concentrated on her breathing, stopping herself from completely coming undone. Sansa Stark was not one to cry over such sentiments, she cried for lost friends, for lost family, she certainly did not cry because a boy confessed his feelings towards her, yet she could not stop the tears from falling.

It was like a relief, a well of tension she did not realise she had been holding that ran much deeper than wanting a boy to have feelings for her. Once, when she was a little girl she believed in love, she believed in the songs and in the courtly gestures, but that had quickly left her once she had realised the true nature of her life. Despite her parents loving but unfulfilled wishes for her happiness, she understood the reality of her position, she was the eldest daughter of a powerful lord, she would marry for politics regardless of what her father wished for her, she would be given to the highest bidder no matter how great they sounded to her. That notion had come true, she had been raped and humiliated as a result, completely broken and put back together again. Yet here was a man that loved her, truly and with no ill intentions, Sansa had to remind herself that he was something worth crying over.

She felt him shift beside her, moving up to sit next to her, his hand cautiously on her back. Sniffing, Sansa turned her face towards him, pondering the concerned glint behind his eyes. He was smiling at her, a genuine smile that showed her he didn’t mind her sudden and rare display of emotions, if anything he appreciated it, cherishing the effect his words had on her. Sansa let out a chuckle at the reality of the situation, her sitting in the bed of a dark room miles from her own bedroom, in the arms of a southern squire, a man whose family unjustly took the life of her father, and tearful at the thought that the man loved her. 

Sansa thought about saying it back, she knew she felt the same, it would not be a lie but she couldn’t. It was like the words got stuck in her throat, she would not allow them to be free as she did not feel comfortable enough. She could not be that vulnerable towards him yet, she could not fully give him to power to hurt her. Too many times had she been destroyed by people she thought she could trust, she understood it would take time for that to heal but oh did she wish she could say it back. Instead, she moved towards him, letting the covers fall around her waist, as she kissed him soundly, completely, spilling everything into the kiss what she could not say in words.

_She loved him,_ and she was going to show that to him in every way she knew how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought you'd all enjoy a bit of pillow talk between these two...


	12. Miles from Secrets

* * *

**PODRICK**

* * *

Podrick strode through the corridors of Winterfell with a merriment that could only be described as a spring in his step. There was no questioning what he had been up to, anyone with eyes could recognise just what had put him in such a good mood yet Podrick did not care what people thought, nor did it cross his mind to hide the fact that he had spent the night in the arms of a woman given the current climate they were in. Instead, Pod was a man in love, and he could not think of anything else besides Sansa Stark and the bed they had shared.

All the other residents of the castle appeared to be in a similar state of elation, each supporting grins and going about their chores contently, despite the communal hangover they all felt in their heads. Only when Podrick got distracted from his thoughts did he feel the grogginess of his heavy drinking, but his distractions were rare, and few and far in between, for his mind was filled with thoughts of his lady and they did not seem to be ceasing anytime in the near future. Podrick thought of her hair, of her shyness, of how she reacted when he had told her about her feelings. Moreover, Podrick thought of her naked, her pants and her moans, and how he had completely surrendered himself to her every command.

Podrick had been with many women, a not so well-kept secret the entirety of King’s Landing knew about, yet none of them had been like Sansa. The others, all whores or tavern girls, had been passive, laying there and allowing him to do whatever he so wished with them. It had been nice to have his way with them, but it was nothing compared to what had occurred with the Lady of Winterfell that night. Be it her persona or some kind of undiscovered passion within her, Sansa Stark had been completely in control of his body, utterly intimidating him and compelling him to follow her every whim, and she had done so with ease. He supposed he like that, to be completely subordinate to a woman, and maybe that was why he had been drawn to the domineering lady in the first place. Yes, she was much better than any of the women he had been with, and he would lay with her again in a heartbeat.

The feeling of her lips still lingered on his from when she had kissed him goodbye, a harsh kiss that drove him wild, a reminder of what they had been up to that night. The kiss was filled with promises of more to come, a message that if it wasn’t for the dawning of a new day the two would have done it all over again. He had awoken something within her, something that burned intensely which brought with it a new side to her, one that would kiss him roughly in private, one that did not have an innocent thought even if she tried. Podrick smiled to himself, proud of his own handiwork, and his thoughts went to the next time he would see her, the next time he would get a chance to be alone with his lady.

Disappointingly, that opportunity would not come soon enough, for Podrick had a day filled with menial jobs ahead of him. Many of the men were preparing to ride out that day, most with Jon down the kings rode, while a select few went off with the Queen towards the coast, and each one of them had jobs that needed to be worked in their absence. Most of the clean-up of Winterfell was completed, all the bodies being removed and buried, all the blood scrubbed from the walls. There was a bit of construction needed, but that would be for the bricklayers to complete themselves, but someone needed to help move the rubble, and every man left with strength had been given the task of moving them that morning – a perfect idea for many men who were hungover.

Firstly, however, Podrick knew he must drop by Ser Brienne, to ask if she had any urgent tasks for him as well as gain some information of her night. The idea of his mentor with Ser Jaime Lannister was one Podrick had grown accustomed to, yet it was still one he was not best pleased with. For so long Pod had rebuked the idea after numerous suggestions from all sorts of people that there was something going on between the pair, he hated the thought of them being together, his mistrust for Jaime Lannister outweighing any hopes he had for his lady’s happiness. But that had changed when he saw them together, how naturally they fit, how he could make Brienne smile quietly to herself, out of sight with only Pod as an audience. The two matched well, be it in personality or battle partners, but that didn’t stop Pod finding the situation rather odd.

It was not Jaime that Podrick couldn’t get his head around – most women seemed to fancy the elder Lannister, instead it was Ser Brienne that confused him, seeing her change in a way he never thought she’d be. For so long Brienne was a constant figure to him, his parental role despite their age gap not being large enough to accommodate that, and therefore Podrick had never thought about her like that, as someone who had the capacity to lust after anyone as he did. He supposed he would have felt the same about Lord Tyron if he hadn’t had let his line of whores or the girls who actually held a place in his heart known so publicly to his squire, at least with him there was no hiding that Lord Tyrion loved women, and sex – there was no reason to think otherwise. Brienne on the other hand was different, no once did she look at other men (or women for that matter) in that way, nor did he think he’d ever heard her mention a man since she had told him about Renly. To Pod, Brienne was innocent, the thought about something so minuscule as kissing never crossed her mind, yet seeing her with Jaime Lannister has changed all that for him, and changed it dramatically.

He supposed he was happy for her, albeit a little worried for her wellbeing, but she was a grown woman and did not need her squire to warn her about matters that did not involve him. Still, he was human and he was her friend, and there was a natural curiosity brewing within him about what had happened the night before which he certainly was going to get out of her as soon as possible.

Podrick found his master in the stables, her armour clung to her figure perfectly as it was made to do. Brienne was seeing to the horses, counting their numbers as they were led out to the courtyard to be readied for their long march to King’s Landing. She was as regal as ever, the only tell-tale sign that something was amiss was the dark circles under her eyes, ones that suggested she had drunk too much, and perhaps ones that said she’d been up half of the night.

“Morning.” He grinned knowingly at her, causing her to draw her attention to him.

“Good morning, Podrick.” Brienne’s face was drawn into a frown, concentrating hard on the task she had been given. “Where have you been all morning?” She scolded him, but Podrick had his suspicions she was only doing so only to divert his attentions elsewhere.

“Around.” He muttered, not wanting to dwell on himself much.

“Hmm.” Brienne glanced over at him unapprovingly.

It made him uncomfortable at the thought that Brienne knew just what he was up to last night, like she was his mother, like he was always a child in her eyes. Brienne knew he was not a virgin, he had told her about some of his romantic interests, and while he had not said it so obviously had indicated to her that he had slept with them and then of course were the rumours, she had to have heard them. Besides, many times on the road he had laid with the occasional tavern girl which she had known, yet this time it was different, as if it was something precious, he did not want anyone to know about. Brienne looked at him like he had slept with a girl meaninglessly like he had done so many times before, she disapproved of his loose morals, but she was far from the truth at that moment and Podrick was beginning to find it a little offensive.

“I trust you had a good night?” She sighed, pushing him further to admit what (or moreover who) he had been up to. 

“I did, my lady,” Podrick doubted he would ever get into the habit of calling her Ser. “As I trust you did also.” He smiled slyly at her, two could play at that game.

He had every right to question her nightly habits as she did his, they were long past the master-squire roles they had adopted all those years ago when they left King’s Landing. Nervously, Brienne cleared her throat, clearly uncomfortable at what he was suggesting. On her cheeks, Pod swore he could see the slight blush that was appearing there. _So they had slept together_ , he thought, her reaction was all he needed to see to confirm the matter. He couldn’t wait to tell Sansa when he next saw her…

Sansa, he couldn’t wait to tell _Sansa_. Trivial as it was, Podrick found the thought of wanting to tell Sansa anything about the ins and outs of his life a bit of a shock to him. It wasn’t the need per say, but the automatic thought that he wanted to tell her about it, something that came naturally within a moment of it happening; somehow, between all the fighting and depression in the castle, Sansa had manged to worm herself into his every being, making it impossible for him to not share every experience with her. He supposed it was because he loved her, Podrick smiled to himself at the thought.

“I don’t need you today, go help with the clean-up.” Brienne retorted resentfully, evidently feeling awkward at the thought that her squire was able to see through any disguise she was trying to hide.

She returned to her work in an instant, not meeting his eyes at all. He smirked at her coyness, shaking his head at the thought that maybe she was just as in love as he was with his lady. Podrick was happy for her, that was for sure, even though it may take him a while to get used to the thought that Brienne was in some way a romantic being. 

“Of course, my lady.” He nodded even though she was not looking and backed out of the stable.

It did not take him long to reach a section of men he could assist that day, the first one he saw were by the front gates to the courtyard, parts of the heavy wood shattered and broken beyond repair scatter around them. He moved over to the group quickly, eager to help out in rebuilding Winterfell, her home, something she loved so dearly, and he was beginning to feel the same. Part of him, a part of him he didn’t think he possessed, thought he needed to do this for other reasons, to be seen mucking in, to make connections with the Northerners there, for one day he may need their support in his plight for the Lady of Winterfell; if he had the men on side, things would be a lot more smoother. 

It was only then that it dawned on him that his pursuit of Sansa may lead to a change in status for him, and that perhaps one day the very men he was choosing to help may look at him as superior to them. If they got married, which Podrick was only just starting to consider, he would be their leader, under Sansa of course but he’d be up there nonetheless. Then, even if they didn’t, a higher role would be expected of him, one that would be fitting for the lover of a leader of a great house. It shocked him that he had never given it much thought before, for surely it should have been a prominent thought for him. They had discussed him being knighted for it, and she had even suggested him becoming a lord, but he didn’t think of the implications that came with that. That one day he would be a leader, someone people came to and swear fealty, that the title was not just a title, it was a role. The whole idea made Podrick nervous.

“Gendry Waters – although I suppose I’m Gendry Baratheon now.” A man, not much older than himself caught his eye and called out to him with a nod, pulling Pod away from his daunting thoughts.

The man, with dull eyes and strong shoulders, beckoned him over as he walked away from the group and towards the pile of wood that was already pulled off from the door. He walked like a wolf stalking his prey, so self-assured and proud of who he was, his head held high. The man was evidently a bastard but walked with the confidence of a king and the notion scared the ever self-doubting Podrick the moment he saw it.

“Podrick Payne.” He stumbled out, and quickly followed, instantly intimidated by the man’s sturdy demeanour.

There was something about the man Podrick couldn’t understand, something that daunted him and made him feel apprehensive much like Ser Brienne had made him feel when he had first met her. He was assertive and sure of himself, and carried his body in a way that told everyone around that he meant business, to not start anything with him; A man who knew what he wanted from life and did not need to ask for it as it all came to him naturally. Plus he was a bastard, Pod had found that as a people bastards were intimidating to no end.

“ _Ah_.” He made a noise in recognition that made Podrick gulp, he had heard of him and Pod could guess just why he was familiar with his name. “Well don’t just stand there, come give me a hand.”

Gendry leant down to pick up a slab of wood, gesturing to Podrick to go grab the other end.

“Are you in charge here?” Podrick managed to ask, unsure about what the man’s position was.

He had seen him before, and he knew very well who he was, but there was a certain newness to his position and his clear need to prove himself that indicated he was trying his hardest to come across as something he wasn’t. He was someone who held himself like he knew what he was doing, someone who looked and acted like he had a position, making the matter rather confusing. Podrick was unsure whether he had been tasked to be there or had just decided to help out, and moreover, whether he saw himself as their leader or one of them.

“Trying to be. We can’t all fuck our way up the ladder, some of us have to prove ourselves.” Podrick heard the man scoff as he walked ahead of him, the wood rough against his hands.

Well, that had confirmed it. He had heard the rumours associated with his name, it must have spread that far amongst the men of the castle. Podrick swallowed hard, a sudden rush of defensive pride came over him, an overwhelming need to protect Sansa’s name. He was not bothered that people thought of him that way, there always seemed to be some sort of rumour about himself and his sex life perpetually following him around, so he was very much used to having the whispers. It angered him that Sansa was exposed to the same crude rumours, having her virtue whispered about between the men who served her. However, Podrick knew he could not do anything, for if he came to her defence to this man he had only just met then it would confirm to many that the rumours they had all heard were in fact true.

The man, Gendry, on the other hand, was not willing to let the matter die and decided to continue the conversation as if it was just some banter between friends. “So, are you sleeping with her? Our glorious leader?”

“Excuse me?” Pod stuttered, dropping the wood clumsily on the pile they were taking it to, his actions drawing far too much attention to himself.

“Don’t play the fool, you know exactly what I am referring to.” Gendry rounded to him with a smirk, his eyes bright with joy.

It was as if he knew everything Pod was hiding, as if he knew just what Podrick was up to that night, as if he had only known him for a few moments and yet could already read him like a book. Pod wasn’t exactly making it hard, it was evident from his blushing and stammering that there was something to the rumours, he could never be that subtle, never be able to play games. Still, he was determined to try and squash the gossip, or at least steer it away from the focus of the Lady of Winterfell in his bed.

“We are friends, is all.” Podrick mumbled, hoping that his half-truth would wipe the knowing grin from his partner’s face but instead it only made him seem even more amused. “Honest. We are just friends, I don’t see why people are saying such awful things about us.”

Gendry sneered, rolling his eyes and gave Pod a slap on the arm before moving past him, back towards the doors to collect some more wood. “If you say so.” He called back to him, a mischievous grin upon his face. 

Podrick did not think twice about replying, falling into step with the striding man with a desperate need to change his mind. “I used to squire for Lord Tyrion, I knew her from then. We are familiar with each other, that is all.”

“Oh, is that what it’s called these days? Suppose it’s much more eloquent than ‘fucking’.” His tormentor grinned, undoubtedly enjoying the pressure he was putting upon Pod.

Podrick wanted nothing more to knock the sly smirk off his face with his fists. He was bold and abrupt, not at all the gentleman he was supposed to be if he was going to be the Lord of Storms End. He swiftly found himself disliking the man, at least detesting his brash mouth, and what made it worse was he felt he could do nothing about it. He was his superior, even if he did not act like it, he could lose his head if he decided to make enemies with a lord.

“We are not ‘ _fucking’_.” Podrick spluttered out behind clenched teeth, an idea suddenly coming to him. If he could not hit the man, he would at least rise to his level. “What about you and Lady Arya, are you sleeping with her?”

His words wiped the smile off of the Baratheon’s face, and instead it was replaced with raised eyebrows. Gendry nodded proudly, as if recognising his move as a fair play. He had been out of line, and from the acknowledgment on his face, he knew it. Podrick felt all the anger leave his body, the fists he did not realise he was clenching relaxed themselves at the new change of tone. This he knew, men, boys, city boys and their crude mouths, and he strangely respected him for being so for he understood him, he was much closer to his status than he was to Sansa and her lords. 

“I won’t talk about it if you won’t.” Gendry sighed, bending over to pick up another piece of wood, getting back to work.

The castle had been abuzz with rumours about the younger Stark sister as they had with the elder, yet there was something wild about Lady Arya that didn’t create the same kind of animosity as it did towards the elder. Lady Arya was a handful, as wild as they came, it was reasonable to expect that she would behave as such. Also, she was the younger and not considered either the Stark heir or the Stark spare, she was just Lady Arya, free to do what she wanted and marry who she pleased. The regal Lady Sansa on the other hand was another case entirely, one that brought with it many sneers and disgust.

“Well are you?” Podrick’s curiosity got the better of him as he joined him in picking up the wood.

He had heard about them, the bastard the younger Stark was in love with, the street rat that somehow found his way to become a lord. Pod wondered how they had met, he wondered if they had fallen in love or if there was no truth to the rumours at all. Besides, Podrick wondered most of all if the other man was experiencing something similar to what he was going through. They were both nobodies despite his new title, both wanting to court the Stark sisters who were so much above their stations. Maybe, just maybe, they were going through the same thing, and Pod was willing to forgive all his crude words if it meant having an ally for such a dangerous fight. 

“Are you?” Gendry groaned back, deflecting.

Pod was not sure what made him do it. There was something so honest and upfront about the man that made him feel comfortable despite himself being completely different in character. He reminded him of Bronn, a brash man who spoke his mind but still had his best interests at heart, he reminded him of Tormund, unafraid to act like the person he was, not bothering about formalities. Oddly, Podrick found himself trusting the man, trusting him so much that he was willing to divulge everything. He supposed it was their shared interests, or maybe it was that he was like him, so straightforward and a nobody that there was no need to think about silly politics – they could say things as they were and not bother to think what anyone could imply from them. Regardless, Podrick allowed himself to admit something he had not been able to say to anyone else.

“Maybe.”

Gendry’s shoulders dropped with a sigh, his back tensing at the squire’s response. They both understood what he had told him, the both knew what that meant, but Gendry seemed inexplicably annoyed at the man, and Podrick did not understand why.

“Well maybe I’m not, not anymore that is.” Gendry dropped the wood to the floor with a crash, his jaw clenched, his eyes darting back to Pod’s in frustration.

“Oh.”

So that was the reason for his animosity, for his vulgar prying of the insights to his relationship. Something had happened, something bad – something that made him decided to stay in Winterfell instead of marching to King’s Landing with the others like he had planned to. It was evident from his reaction that he was not happy about the situation which lead Pod to believe the cause of their rift lay with the woman, as it was apparent that the man clearly loved her.

“Take my advice and don’t ask her to marry you any time soon.” He chuckled with a grimace, shaking his head at his own stupidity. 

He had asked Arya Stark to marry him, and she had turned him down, Gendry did not need to say anymore to let it be known. Podrick could think of little worse than the thought of the woman he loved turning down his offer for her hand, but be it a curse or a blessing in disguise, Pod knew that he would never find out the answer. He could not ask her to marry him, they could not get married, and he was certain she felt the same yet the conversation that night had got him thinking, maybe they could, maybe it would work. Previously he had thought about it, a fleeting wish that he knew deep down could not come true but slowly he was beginning to believe it may be possible.

“I don’t think we could marry even if we wanted to.” Podrick muttered rather solemnly, earning a chuckle from the other man.

“Well we make quite a pair, one can marry us but chooses not to, the other wants to but can’t.” Gendry grinned as he placed his hands on his hips, a glint of sadness behind his eyes mixed with relief at finally telling someone. “Want to blow this off and go to the tavern?” 

Gendry looked at him expectedly, causing Podrick’s eyes to grow wide. How quickly the conversation had turned from Pod wanting to hit the man to the two going for a drink together well before they had even had lunch that day. What confused him even more was that Pod found himself wanting to go, to halt all his responsibilities and go drowned his sorrows in a pint, swapping stories with new Lord of Storm’s End. In the lord he had found an ally, a friend, someone removed from the daily drama that came with politics but a part of it, like himself, nonetheless; they were two sides of the same coin, both suited to their preferred Stark sister and Podrick knew that he would be a fool not to forge some kind of relationship with the man.

“Can we do that?” Podrick contemplated the protocols, not sure if either of them would be allowed to do so.

“I dunno, let’s find out.” Gendry shrugged, wiping his hands together as if to get rid of the muck. “If we get into trouble I’ll just say I ordered you or something… can I even order you around? I know I’m not your knight or your liege but I am a lord so do you –“ 

“Podrick Payne?”

Her voice, distinctive and clear, sent a shiver down his spine, one that he knew Gendry next to him could feel. Instantly the two turned to face her, bowing low and expressing the pleasantries befitting of the situation. She was standing only a few steps in front of them, her arms clasped at her front and she looked at them with an imperial stare that only women of her stature could muster. Behind her stood her handmaid, the linguist who followed her every step, the two of them both dressed in their riding gear, ready for the road ahead.

Podrick supposed he should have expected it, he should have prepared himself for some kind of conversation with the woman – he had been warned about it after all. Yet, Daenerys Targaryen, the first of her name, stood in front of him, watching him as if she knew all his secrets, and Podrick wanted nothing more than to have the world swallow him up there and then. He felt Gendry shuffle uncomfortably besides him, his face turned to watch his reaction to being addressed by the woman. Podrick began to breathe deeply, his mind racing with every tip Sansa had given him, everything he had learnt from Lord Tyrion about speaking to lords and ladies. He wasn’t quite sure how he was going to get through this without giving it all away, but he was certainly going to try.

“May I have a word.” She spoke directly to him, her eyes flicked over to the man beside him momentarily, prompting her to continue. “About Lord Tyrion?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lack of Podsa in here but thought I should somehow move the plot along.
> 
> I really wanted Pod to have a bit of a confidant so I thought why not Gendry - from now on there will definitely be hints of Gendry/Arya but certainly won't be mentioned heavily, however their stories will be taken away from cannon that's for sure. Get ready for the bromance because its happening! I really wanted to portray them as chalk and cheese, Gendry is very rough around the edges and Pods a lot softer, but at the same time they are very similar. I can't wait to show you all what I have planned for them.
> 
> (also i really love the head cannon that Pod's kink is women who could probably have him killed so i included that you're welcome.)


	13. Miles from Simple

* * *

**SANSA**

* * *

Sansa had watched him in the courtyard speaking to her sister’s blacksmith, the new Lord of Storm’s End, and she had pondered from her vantage point what the two were speaking about. She was not quite sure whether or not it was the conversation or the heavy lifting that was making them seem uncomfortable, but regardless, Sansa had concluded that their conversation was not a pleasant one as neither of the two seemed very happy to be there. She supposed they were speaking about her and her sister, for the two had more in common than someone would think – both of them were lowborn, the blacksmith much lower than Podrick for sure, and both of them ended up somehow in love with two of the daughters of Ned Stark. Surely the two of them were finding solace in their joint venture, or perhaps they weren’t, perhaps they were just talking about work, or the weather, or whatever men talked to each other about.

When Arya had told her about her lover, Sansa had instantly thought of Podrick, thought about telling her sister everything and enjoy the fact that the two would finally have something in common. Yet it was not to be, Gendry, her sister had finally told her his name, had proposed, and she refused, so she had decided to pack up her things and set off to King’s Landing before anyone else got the chance to speak with her. When Arya had told her that morning, before she had even had a chance to settle into her room after leaving the warmth of her squire’s, Sansa felt like she could scream, she wanted to beg her not to go, to tell her to stop being selfish. Sansa would have done anything to be proposed to, anything for a man she loved to drop to his knees and beg for her hand but she had never seen it, instead she had been simply told who she would marry and that was that. Her sister, however, was not her, and Sansa reminded herself that she needed to consider that. Arya did not want to marry, she did not want to be a lady but still, that did not mean she had to run off to a war zone just to prove a point. It frustrated her to no end yet supposed her sister always would just like she was sure she frustrated her.

Still, it did not stop her from thinking just what Gendry was telling her lover, perhaps everything or perhaps nothing at all. Maybe, all this time the two had been friends, speaking to one another about their individual relationships or maybe they had never met, maybe all she was watching was two men get to work, their only words being about wood or fighting. Sansa made a mental note to speak to Podrick about it later, when they were alone. Although, she supposed – she hoped – they would not be doing much speaking then.

Sansa smiled to herself as she thought of him, of what the new change in their relationship meant and how she wanted nothing more than to have him come to her chambers each night and repeat his actions again and again. She felt like a new woman, one who despite her steely exterior wanted to feel, and she wanted to feel him, his hands, his lips, and everything else on her skin at all times. It was strange, it was refreshing, and everything Margaery Tyrell had described to her all those years ago back at King’s Landing – how it should be between a man and a woman, how the gods had intended it to be. Maester Wolkan had brought her a batch of moon tea that morning at her request and she had informed him that he was to do so every morning until she told him otherwise. The master had turned his nose up at first and had even opened his mouth to warn her against what sins she was exposing herself to but it only took one cautionary stare to stop him. She had every intention to do it again and again, and there was no words the old man could say to possibly get her to stop.

Sansa felt herself growing hot at the thought, what had she become? She was miles from the perfect lady she used to be, never before had she thought about allowing a man into her chambers to do the most carnal of things to her yet there she was, thinking about doing it repeatedly, her heart racing at the thought. Long gone was the shy little girl in King’s Landing, and in her place stood someone she didn’t recognised, someone changed, someone cold and calculating, someone who slept with a man just because she wanted to. The notion in itself was rather thrilling and Sansa dwelled on it for some time, conjuring up a plan to get him alone so they could repeat it again, however just like their night, all good things must come to an end and Sansa quickly found herself being drawn away from her thoughts.

The Dragon Queen threw one glance up towards her as she strode across the courtyard, entourage in tow, she knew exactly what she was doing and had even made a point to check if Sansa was looking. Sansa felt the anger rose in her throat as she watched her approach him, he was startled from the contact, his cheeks flushed just as they had whenever she used to speak to him, before they had seen each other naked and got very familiar with on another. She begun to pray that she had trained him enough, that she had conveyed to him how best to handle the situation. Podrick would never be politically minded, nor did she feel he even wished to be, instead he valued truth and honestly, something someone not highborn could experience, but she knew he understood the situation, and she hoped to the old gods and the new he would handle himself accordingly.  

Sansa’s breathing seemed to stop altogether as she saw the two of them walk slowly away from Gendry, coming to a halt in the middle giving Sansa a good look at Podrick’s back and an even better look at the confident queen. Their voices were low, so much so that Sansa was sure they were whispering and from the glances they were being thrown by men around them it was clear the entire castle found the situation odd. Still, the queen continued, her eyes flickering every so often towards her on the balcony, checking that she was still their watching protectively over him. Her hands griped at the bannister, knowing that if she didn’t have something to anchor herself she would march down there in an instant and pull him away – then everyone would be watching but at least then he would be away from her.

From his slowly relaxing shoulders, Sansa figured that the queen was not addressing the subject of the two of them, yet the threat still hung in the air. She knew they were talking about something unimportant, something that did not matter but Sansa knew it to be a test, more so for herself than it had been for Podrick. This was a message, a clear message to her that she could and she would use him to get to her if she didn’t behave. It was a clear power ploy, a device she had seen used so many times with Cersei and Littlefinger that she saw straight through it, but still the threat was still there. Whether or not she would go through with it was a different matter, but Daenerys was making a point there that she could, and she could do so very easily. Sansa wished that she did not feel threatened, she wished that she did not fall for one of her games, but she did, and Sansa felt herself counting down the hours until the queen would once and for all ride out of the gates and away from the two of them. 

Her prayers were answered in the unlikeliest of places however, by not one but two men she had grown to love dearly. Her brother, Jon, had unknowingly walked over to the two, drawing a momentary end to the conversation as he spoke to her about some plan or another. Then, coming up from the rear her own Lord Royce had come towards them, clearly noticing the conversation and trying his best to interject. The older man spoke to the couple, his hand Sansa saw firmly on Podrick’s back, grasping at his jerkin in a bid to get him to move. She found herself willing him to move, cursing every moment he continued to stand there in her presence, until eventually, with one sharp tug from Lord Royce, her lover began to move, bowing low to the queen before he took his leave.

Sansa felt like she could breathe again, and she found her heart rate return to a much healthier pace as she watched the man walk away from danger, looking clearly unsettled to what had just happened. She thanked the gods for her oblivious brother, she knew he knew nothing about the situation, yet he had ended it promptly for her, before the queen had time to spin her web around him. Mostly, she thanked the gods for Lord Royce and his quick thinking. He had seen the boy in trouble and had gone to his rescue, to their rescue and had not thought twice in doing so. Lord Royce had their backs, a steady sturdy support even when she did not realise they needed one and she would never stop being grateful for him and his kindness.

“My lady,” Maester Wolkan stirred behind her, startling her from her watch. Swiftly she turned to face him, masking any worries she was feeling perfectly.

“It is time to bid the men farewell.” He bowed slightly before leaving, as her heart began to race once more at the thought of speaking to the queen so closely.

She took a moment to ready her thoughts, preparing herself for the conversation ahead before descending down from the balcony into the courtyard below. Externally she was every bit as calm and collect as she always was, and she made a particular effort to not even look in Pod’s direction. She could see him in her peripheral, getting swiftly back to work with the Baratheon and avoiding all contact with the queen at all costs. With a steely expression she made her way to where Jon, the queen and Lord Royce had been meeting, no indication on her face that she was even slightly rattled at the display of power from the other woman. She was good at hiding her feelings, she always had been, and it was one of the main reason she had managed to stay afloat despite everything that happened.

When she reached them, each one of them turned to watch her with a smile on their faces, some much more genuine than others. Without saying a word Jon drew her into a hug, and despite all the time that had passed Sansa still felt herself amazed that the two had reached the point where they hugged. In the past they hated each other, she was a bully and he was an outcast who made sure to sulk at every given opportunity, they were never destined to be friendly yet with all that had happened they had found themselves being. It was a blessing surrounded in all the misery, but Sansa would not change it for the world. He was her brother – well, he wasn’t her brother, not anymore, but he was as good as and that was all that mattered to her.

She was surprised when she had heard earlier that morning, shocked that for so long none of them knew, that her father had lived a lie their entire lives all to protect him. It made sense, of course he had to lie, but that didn’t deter from the fact that the matter was all that shocking. Jon was a Targaryen, the queen his aunt, their father was never unfaithful. For so long Jon had been her brother, even when she didn’t want him to be, she had always considered him one and now he was her cousin, the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms and that was what could so easily get him killed.

Sansa held him close, savouring the moment with thoughts that she may never see him again lingering at the back of her head. His name would be the death of him if he didn’t play it right, and just like all the Stark men he had a habit of acting stupid in the name of honour. Jon was playing with fire, quite literally with Daenerys, and Sansa did not think for a moment the queen would find a way to dispose of him if he did not act exactly as she wished him to. He pulled back, holding her at arm’s length as a smile died upon his face. 

“I suppose this is goodbye.” He muttered, as solemn as ever for he never was one to not be brooding.

“I suppose it is. Make sure to write and do be careful.” Sansa smiled, making a point to act as normal as possible in front of the queen like he had asked her to earlier that day.

With a polite nod, Jon dropped his arms and stepped away, leaving her to turn her attentions to the woman next to him. The queen watched her carefully, as if she was trying her hardest to find any cracks within her actions, but she would find none, Sansa was certain of that. With all the politeness that was expected of a lady, Sansa smiled at the other woman all the while thinking of what her next move could be against her – the joy of being in a governmental position.

“I hope you have a safe journey and that you find all your wishes fulfilled.” Sansa spoke eloquently, drawing on the memory of her mother for her words.

“Thank you for hosting us, I can only imagine what a feat it must have been for you.” Daenerys’s tone did not reflect her pointed words, as she beamed warmly towards her but they both knew that neither of them meant their pleasentries.

“Oh, it was no bother, we always manage.” Sansa smiled once more at the woman before bidding her farewell, turning away from her and letting the false expression drop from her face. 

If her actions towards Pod had not solidified her need to make a move against her, then her sly dig at her masked in politeness had pushed Sansa over the edge. As she walked away, she thought of how she could get her back, to move against her before she got a chance to do so herself. She needed to protect Jon, to protect Pod, she needed to send a message that she was the subordinate lady Daenerys was expecting her to be. The moment she felt she was above her, she knew she was done for, and the queen was very much in a potion where she could over power her and her forces in a matter moments. No, Sansa would have to be crafty about it, and in a way she didn’t realise. The queen’s main weakness was that she was not Westerosi and therefore she was not well versed in how they played the game of thrones there, she had not met Lord Baelish, and she did not know of Cersei in her prime, and Sansa was sure she would use that to her advantage.

* * *

That evening at dinner, the entire company were quiet. From Brienne and Jaime, stealing glances at each other from across the table to Sansa’s sighs into her soup bowl, not one of them felt the need to talk, each of them dwelling on something personal to each of them. They had to retired to the family chambers to eat that evening, no longer any need to take their meals down in the Great Hall as there was nobody but a few of them to entertain. Sansa, her brother, Jaime, Brienne, Lord Royce and Podrick Payne all gathered around the large table, each one of them staring into their plates deep in thought. Others had been invited, a select few in the castle who was considered to have an appropriate status to be welcomed yet they had turned it down, choosing instead to eat elsewhere. If those people were looking for some riveting dinner company, Sansa concluded that they had made the correct decision considering the silence that had fell upon them all.

With a sigh, Sansa looked up from her bowl and took a glance around the table, only Podrick’s eyes rose up to meet hers. He sent her a quick smile from across the table, Ser Brienne sat next to him and directly across from herself yet she did not notice the change in her squire’s attentions. His foot came to brush against hers under the table, a silent reminder that he was there and that he was with her, before he turned his focus back to his food, not wishing to raise any more suspicions.

It was surprising how quickly the dinner guests made their excuses to leave as soon as the food was eaten. Jaime and Brienne has swiftly rose from the table, blaming nightly checks over the remaining men-at-arms as the reason for their disappearance. Sansa suspected that their joint need to check on them was only half truths, that their disappearance had other reasons behind it, ones she did not even consider before she saw the two staring at each other from across the table. Her brother had quickly followed suit, summoning a guard from outside the chambers to escort him to the Godswood, apparently in the need to look into some matter or another, far from the realm of Sansa’s understanding. His absence left Sansa alone with Podrick and Lord Royce and it didn’t take long for the latter to make his excuses also.

Lord Royce knew about them, about what they were although she suspected he did not know of the extent that their relationship had gone. He was supportive and was quietly campaigning for her to marry whom ever she wished to her lords, and that was precisely why he quickly left the room as soon as he realised just who was left in the room. His face was expressionless as he stood from the table leaving the two unable to understand what he was thinking but he looked between the two pointedly, compelling them to be careful doing whatever they planned to do once he had walked out of the room.

“Do not be long.” He warned as he left, not choosing to look back at the pair.

Suddenly, they were left alone when only a few moments ago they were surrounded by friends. Sansa watched Podrick expectedly, debating whether to reach out and kiss him or start the conversation herself. There had been something on his mind all evening, just like there had been something on hers, and Sansa was dying to find out the details of his conversation with the queen. All thoughts of doing something physical, any stolen touches, were put aside, they could wait until they both had put their minds at ease.

“What did she say to you?” Sansa started, leaning on the table with her arms as if getting closer to him would make her feel slightly less anxious. 

Podrick raised his eyebrows before replying, evidently surprised that she had known about the conversation. “Nothing really – well, she did ask me to squire again for Lord Tyrion, but I said no. I don’t know if I should have said that but I did. Then she just spoke about how much he missed me, how much he would like it if I was with him, but I said I couldn’t. I-I made it sound like I didn’t want to leave Lady Brienne, I didn’t mention you once. Do you think that was alright?” He stumbled through his words as he would have done years before at King’s Landing, and Sansa found herself strangely comforted by his reverting to his old ways.

Sansa pursed her lips slightly, carefully thinking over his words. The Dragon Queen was testing his loyalties, seeing if she could persuade him to leave the North yet Sansa did not think there would be any consequences from it. Instead it was a power move, a message to her and an attempt to gain information about the lengths Podrick would go to stay with her. It was smart, and it had certainly achieved its goals as Sansa was considerably rattled by the conversation. 

“No, I think you did quite alright. There was no other way you could play it without leaving with her, and we both don’t want that.” Sansa smiled shyly at him and he returned it, a reminder that they were together now, through thick and thin. 

“I wasn’t going to tell you, you know. I didn’t want to worry you.” Podrick looked sheepish at his words. “How did you find out?” 

“She did it in front of me, she made sure I saw the two of you. I was up on the balcony, watching you and the Baratheon…she kept on looking at me as she spoke to you.” Sansa trailed off, a flash of anger overcoming her at the thought of the queen. “She was sending me a message, telling me that she knew and that she was not afraid to use the information.” 

“What shall we do?” Podrick looked alarmed, his eyes desperately searching her for some kind of plan. 

Podrick would leave her if she asked him to, he’d even leave the company of Brienne if commanded him but she did not wish for that to happen nor did she feel like she should. The fate of their relationship rested on the war that would be fought down south and it would be a good couple of weeks before they would even start fighting. She would have to have a plan then, something that would allow the both of them to be together, or at the very least allow the both of them to keep their lives. Until then however, the two were left in a paradise, without the queen or Sansa’s older brother breathing down their necks, they should take advantage of it while they still could.

The Northern lords had rode south with Jon leaving them with no need to hid themselves as discreetly as they had done before. There were many who didn’t know left in the castle and Sansa intended to keep it that way, but there was less emergency, less threat at the rumour spreading further. The servants she was sure already knew, likewise she was sure Bran knew as he knew everything, Lord Royce knew, most of the men-at-arms knew the rumours but she doubted they thought anything of them. Which left only Brienne and Jaime, she was certain the knights did not know of what was conspiring between the lady and the squire for she was sure they would have said something, or at the very least look at her differently but they were no threat. If they did find out, they would not harm them or stop them, she was sure of that. Even Ser Jaime, his Lannister blood thick and suspicious would not dare to move against them, and Sansa did not think it was in his repertoire anyway, for he always seemed to choose fighting over scheming behind backs. No, there was no one left in the castle who would cause them any ill will, yet they needed to be cautious regardless, just in case.

“Nothing, we will do nothing.” Sansa replied soundly, confident in her answer.

“What about when she takes King’s Landing, when all the Northerners return to Winterfell? What then?” Podrick seemed much less relaxed at the situation that she was, clearly not wishing to trust Sansa’s deductions.

She supposed he was smart to be weary, for it was his life that would be at stake more so than it would be hers. If things went bad, at the very least he would be sent away, something she did not want to think about but she supposed she would always stay in Winterfell, her position would not be at forfeit unless things went disastrously, but Sansa was better than that, she had learned how to avoid such situations. She had a lot to think over, a lot to discuss with Lord Royce, she needed to have a plan for the queen and a plan for her lords, and ones that allowed them to not only stay together but to not have to be so worried about the future.

“I’ll just have to figure that out.” Sansa smiled at him, and reached her arm out to grasp his hand, their fingers intertwining.

They both stared down at their joint hands, a symbol that they were together, a team and that nothing could break them apart. His hands were rough in hers, calloused and hard from years of swinging a sword but she had become rather fond of them, especially the way they felt against her skin. She thought back to her time at King’s Landing, about the young girl and the young boy who was too shy to even glance in her direction – what would they have thought about this union? Sansa knew she wouldn’t have believed it, nor would she have even considered it. Young Sansa had been determined to be a lady, the thought that she would be with anyone other than a king, a lord or a knight would have sent her spinning. Likewise, she would have never been with a Payne, even if said Payne was a king. Yet here they were, holding hands like they were sweethearts who did not know heartbreak – time was certainly a strange being.

“Lady Brienne and Ser Jaime are sleeping together.” Pod spoke quickly like a young girl, delivering her the gossip as if he was one of her ladies.

Sansa laughed as the two fell into a comfortable chat, discussing the ins and outs of the two knights’ relationship like they had not a care in the world. This was what she loved about him, how he could put her at ease with just a smile or a simple word, like she could breathe freely and not think about the consequences. She loved him wholeheartedly, and she was determined to do everything in her power to allow them to continue, to allow him to keep on calming her down when she needed it, to allow herself to laugh in his company like she was a little girl again. Nothing could stop her, and she was determined to stop anyone who tried. 


	14. Miles from Danger

* * *

**PODRICK**

* * *

The temperature in the Lady of Winterfell’s study was nice and warm, and Podrick found himself almost dozing off from his position on the bench against the wall – the same bench where she had first kissed him. Upon her request he had come to keep her company as she replied to letters, and he was grateful for the opportunity to be with her yet it was not at all what he had expected. He had thought of stolen kisses, he thought of distractions from her work but instead all he was met with was a very determined woman to get her business attended to. She had been sitting at her desk for the best part of an hour, reading and writing as if it was her only purpose in life. Podrick has found it very attractive at first, watching the woman he loved so passionately pouring herself into her work but the novelty had worn off and in its place he found himself to be very bored. The only reason he was still say there was the potential for Sansa’s attentions to turn elsewhere, and being the lovesick fool he was, he was willing to wait it out much longer for the slight chance that would happen. There was no guard at the door as he had been tasked with it in the absence of Stark men, there would be no interruptions from various lords and ladies, it was the perfect opportunity for them if Sansa decided to pay him some attention. However, as the evening drew on it was looking less likely that the lady would do such a thing and Podrick had resorted to slumping down on the bench, his only company being his own breath.

“If you sigh one more time I’m going to have you stand outside again.” Sansa’s voice broke the silence in the air, she was annoyed, he could hear it in her tone.

“Sorry.” He sheepishly muttered back, immediately sitting up straight on the bench even though she had not bothered to look over at him. 

“Well you’ll be pleased to know that I am finished now.” Sansa smiled slightly as she rose from her chair, her hands flattening out her dress as she stood.

With all the grace that came with her title, Sansa glided over to the table near the door to the room and began to pour herself a cup of wine. Podrick found himself admiring her ease of movements, how a certain regal air flowed from her without any effort, something he could not achieve even if he tried. With a raised eyebrow she turned back to watch him, a cocky smirk forming on her face at the power she knew she held over him. 

“Would you like some wine, Podrick?” Sansa asked as she began to pour him a cup not waiting for an answer. It was clear both of them were thinking back to the day she asked him that very question in the same room, a question that started a complete whirlwind of an adventure he had never thought possible.

She walked over to him, both cups in hand, with a stern look upon her face that he could see straight through. It had surprised him how easily he had grown to understand her mannerisms and the way she thought, how on the outside she was steel and ice but on the inside she was like fire, a well of thoughts and emotions, a woman who cared for her people and the persons she was closest to. He knew her well, just like she had grown to know him, and they were beginning to know each other just as well as they knew themselves. He knew what she liked, how she liked to be touched, how she worked through a problem. Podrick loved her for it, he loved every bit of her despite the fact he knew he could never have her, not officially.

Sansa handed him the cup, her eyes locked onto his in a way he had grown familiar with over the last couple of months. With a wide grin he moved up to kiss her soundly, a short, playful kiss that caught her off guard only for a moment before he pulled away, taking a swig of the bitter drink as he did so. She collapsed into the seat next to him, relaxing almost in an instant as she settled into the seat and the two of them fell into a gentle chatter about their daily lives.

* * *

Podrick made his way out of the Godswood, leaving the Lady of Winterfell to her prayers as he trundled through the snow-covered paths in a way that instantly painted him as a foreigner to the cold lands. He had gotten used to the North, to the people and their way of life, but Podrick was unsure he could ever get used to the piles of snow that fell there like a coating of thick mud that made it impossible to walk through stably. He had seen snow before, he had even experienced it at a young age for he was born towards the end of the last winter, his earliest memories included playing outside in the cold powder. Yet that snow had been thin and rare as winters in the Westerlands were predominately cold and dreary as opposed to the freezing and snowy ones in the North, and his lack of experience in the thick piles made his greenness stick out and had earned him some disapproving looks from the few guards left at Winterfell.

Their looks were not entirely down to his manoeuvring of the snow-covered ground, moreover their looks were due to the time he had just been spending with their lady, alone and unaccompanied. The castle had begun to realise the truth of the rumours between the lady and the squire and as their relationship grew so too did the whispers and the disappointment. Pod had rationalised that the two of them could be described as courting, having moments alone to themselves as it was traditional for a man and a woman to do, however, it was not traditional for said man to end up in the woman’s bed outside of wedlock which was so often the case. This change had not gone unrecognised by the castle, and many had taken the newfound publicity of their interactions as confirmation to the rumours despite the lack of anything intimate they displayed in public. They talked mainly, and they walked together, all the rest happened behind closed doors which he was certain the entire castle could predict what happened there.

Yet, despite all the rumours and talk he heard about the two of them, there was one person in the entire castle he knew did not even hear the rumours for she was too preoccupied with her own relationship to think about his. Ser Brienne did not know about himself and Sansa, she would undoubtedly disapprove and her lack of malice towards him was a good indication that she had not heard or thought about anything pertaining to the two of them. Ser Jaime, on the other hand, almost certainly knew, for he had begun to subtly tease him about love at any opportunity he got. The Lannister was always hanging around them of late, so the older man had been given plenty of occasions to dig at the squire for information about his love life, something that Podrick had found very unnerving. He had asked him about girls, about what he was up to and who he was seeing, never once did the man mention the Lady of Winterfell but there was something in his tone that indicated he knew. In an odd way, he trusted Ser Jaime not to say anything despite his past sins, he trusted his feelings for Ser Brienne and he trusted his opinions, yet Podrick did not feel comfortable enough to talk to him about the matter – he was still a Lannister after all. Instead, Pod decided to suffer in silence, keeping the secret unspoken to prolong it’s coming out for Podrick dreaded the day he had to face Ser Brienne about it.

He headed towards where he knew the woman was, checking in with her and the various jobs that he knew she had lined up for him. They would begin practice again soon, both of their bodies had fully recovered from the fight and it was about time they got back into the swing of things. Pod knew it was Ser Jaime who had talked her into given themselves a break, if he wasn’t there Pod was certain he would have been out the day after the battle in the courtyard practising, the bruises that had covered his body aching in the morning sun. For the meantime however, Podrick had been left with all the jobs that was befitting for his station, which meant that his days were spent doing a lot of polishing and a lot of horse care – Pod had quickly found himself missing the hours of training. 

Ser Brienne was in the armoury, sorting out practise swords and forming piles of what could be used and what couldn’t. Unofficially she had become the Master at Arms for the castle, and many of the men who were recuperating from their injuries had expressed interest at having her train them when their bodies would allow it. Brienne had taken up the role graciously, enjoy the responsibility it came with and Pod was beginning to think that the position would become a permanent one when everything had settled. 

When he entered, the woman did not need to turn around to know he was and started talking at him in an instant. She began to list all the jobs she had for him, and as she did, she begun to pile up some unusable swords in his arms for him to dispose of. She often spoke at him instead of to him, and Podrick had grown to take no offense from her tone, she was not naturally a leader and had never felt comfortable ordering him around like she was supposed to. So, he just stood there, half listening to her commands and half wondering about other matters, as she continued to sort out the many dull swords Winterfell had to offer. 

“Podrick?” Her voice called him out of the trance like state he was in to find her staring down at the practise sword in her hands. “I heard a vulgar rumour about you today that I know isn’t true but it had me thinking… Do you have a lady friend I should know about?”

Podrick’s heart sank to his feet, the weight in his arms suddenly feeling unbearable. He begun to panic, his hands immediately becoming sweaty and warm, his face reddening by the second. There was no way from his reaction he could lie about the matter, but at least she thought the rumours she had heard were not true. In a way, Pod felt a little offended that she thought no truth to them for she knew him better than most people, did she really think Sansa was so far out of reach for him? Did she think that in no way they could work out?

“You know you can tell me these things? I’m your friend.” Brienne sighed awkwardly, evidently as uneasy about the topic as he was. “You don’t have to tell me her name.” 

They did not speak of these things, they had never spoken of these things. Even when she had caught him kissing a barmaid in a tavern while on the road to the Vale, she had not mentioned it just like he would not mention what was clearly happening between her and Ser Jaime. It was just something they never talked about, something that they both knew of but had silently decided did not need to be discussed. There was always a disapproving comment from her and that was the end of it, no questions, no digging. It was unfamiliar territory and the uncertainty of how the other would react had brought a tension to the air in the room.

“Th-there is someone.” Podrick chose to be coy, knowing he could not deny the fact he was clearly spending much of his free time with someone special yet he did not want to admit to her the truth.

“How long?” She continued uncomfortably, her words curt and short.

“A couple of months, maybe three I don’t know.”

Podrick wanted the world to swallow him, to die in that moment so he could remove himself from the situation. If she found out she would murder him, or at the very least scold him until she was blue in the face. Then, if she found out the nature of the relationship, the fact that he had spent quite a lot of his time in her bedchambers, she would surely flay him and hang him out for the bird to eat. They were charged with protecting the Starks, something Brienne took very seriously, and if she found out he was being a little too attentive to one of the girl’s needs he would surely be a dead man (well, he would feel like it, he very much doubted Brienne actually harm him).

Brienne cleared her throat and turned away from him, back over to the heap of swords that lay on the stone floor. “Do you love her?” She asked quietly over her shoulder, and Podrick sensed that she was uncharacteristically curious about the answer.

“Yes.”

He spoke quickly and with certainty. He could not deny that he was in love with her, even a blind man could see that was the case. He wore his heart on his sleeve and there was no denying that there had been a change in his demeanour ever since the night of the feast where he finally understood his feelings properly. He was a man in love, a man in love with his lady, and the entire world could see that was the case, so Brienne deserved to know.

“Ah, Podrick!” Ser Jaime slapped him on the back as he walked in the room, almost forcing the pile of practise swords to escape his arms from the force.

The entrance of the man had put an end to the conversation, and Podrick was grateful for the man’s timing. If he had not come, Podrick knew he would end up telling her everything for he could not lie to her and he knew her questions would become more directed at figuring out the identity of the girl. Without a second thought, Podrick hurried out of the room in the direction of the blacksmiths, rushing away from the situation while he still had a chance. He had evaded her finding out for another day, but Pod had a feeling in his gut that it would not continue much longer, and the thought made him feel sick. He could handle the judgements of the men, he could handle the stares and the rumours, but the thought of Ser Brienne finding out about just who he was courting scared him to the very core.

* * *

He was awoken that particular morning to Sansa shifting in his arms, her back pressed completely against his chest as her hands pulled her covers closer to her. The mornings in Winterfell were cold, especially the time before the sun came up that he usually slipped away at, and the two of them had quickly understood that the closer they slept the warmer they would be. He cherished the feeling of having her close, preferring it much to whatever they may have been doing prior to it, and looked forward to that moment each day. It was special, a moment where they can just simply fall asleep together, yet it felt like the most precious thing in the world. He knew it had taken a lot for her to trust him, to let him touch her and to be intimate, and the act of falling asleep next to him was a big step that took her a couple of nights to feel comfortable with. It was an unusual thing if he thought about it, that it was easier to be naked and allow herself to be completely undone by him than it was to fall asleep in his arms, but he supposed it was much more vulnerable, to completely let her guard down and surrender herself to sleep, and he understood why she had been hesitant to do so.

Sansa had persevered with her challenge, forcing herself each night they decided to share with each other to try and sleep until eventually it had come naturally to her, and now more often than not she fell asleep before him. They had fallen into a routine very quickly from then on, he would come to her after most of the castle had gone to bed, sneaking through the hallways until he got to her chambers, and he would leave before dawn, before anyone would have a chance to see him. Sansa had shown him how to get there without the guards seeing, a flaw in her security that she allowed solely because it fit her needs, and so far he had successfully evaded drawing attention to himself. Quickly he had gone from never stepping foot in the room to knowing it completely, and in a way he was beginning to think of it as their room as he spent much more time sleeping there than he did in his own. Overall, however, Podrick could not shake the weird feeling he got whenever he thought of it, somehow he had ended up spending most of his nights on the soft featherbed in a room that historically belonged to one of the most powerful lords in the country, and no matter how many times he stayed there, the odd feeling that he was an imposter did not go away.

With a deep exhale, Pod opened his eyes and looked over to the woman besides him, determining whether or not she was awake also. Sansa was sleeping soundly still, his hand clutched tightly by both of hers against her chest like if she let him go he would leave her completely. Softly, as he did not want to wake her, Podrick laid a kiss on her bare shoulder, earning a slight groan from the woman before he expertly pulled his arm out of her grasp. He was certain it would be dawn soon, and he as much as it pained him to do so he would have to leave her and head back to his own quarters. Bracing himself for the coldness outside of the bed, Podrick moved over and out of the covers, surprised when he did so that he was not instantly met with a wall of cold air.

As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, a feeling of dread come over him as he realised just why the room was not as cold as it usually was. The fire was lit, and from the height of the flames someone had tended to it recently. It must have been later than he thought, and from the fire it was evident someone had been in the room and that someone would have seen him in her bed. Podrick’s heart began to race in a panic, and quickly he pulled on his breeches that he had left by the end of the bed. Once he had laced them up, he turned back to Sansa, deliberating for a moment whether or not to tell her before he began to shake her awake, whispering her name until her eyes finally blinked open.

“What is it?” She mumbled, her eyes closing again as she settled in against the pillow once more. Her face was contorted at the sudden waking and Podrick quickly felt guilty about being the cause, but he knew he had to tell her, he’d want to be told if he was her.

“The fire’s lit.” He whispered, not wishing for his loudness to cause her anymore discomfort. 

“So?” Sansa sighed into her pillow, annoyed that they were speaking at such an early hour.

“So, someone has been in here.” Evidently, she did not understand what he was saying, she did not realise the gravitas of the situation so he had to spell it out.

Sansa’s eyes opened once more, her eyebrows furrowing at his concern. “Everyone knows anyway, I’m sure they didn’t think twice.” 

It irritated him immensely when she acted like that, like their relationship was the easiest thing and they didn’t need to worry about it. He knew she didn’t mean it, but Sansa had a habit of making people feel patronised whenever she disagreed with them, her tone was condescending, a reminder of the entitled lady she once was which he doubted would ever go away. She made him feel stupid, like he was a fool for caring, but he knew he was right. This was dangerous, they were dangerous, and sometimes he wished she would remember that.

“I can’t be found in your room! It’s improper, you’re a lady and I’m a squire, I cannot be here.” Even though he was speaking in hushed tones, his impatience at her was already beginning to show.

Sansa smiled at him, and grasped his arm, pulling him to sit down on the bed. Pod did not understand what she was thinking, why she was smiling so brightly at something so serious. Moreover, it annoyed him that she did not appear to be taking him seriously, he couldn’t expect her to be concerned if it didn’t bother her, but he hoped at least she would understand and care that it concerned him. 

“If you think this is improper then what would you call what you were doing to me last night?” She smirked, her fingers tracing shapes on his forearm that she still clung to until her movements stopped and her face fell. “Oh, you are actually upset by this.”

“You’re not?” He knew she wasn’t, but he felt like he should ask regardless.

“No. Everyone knows Podrick, I don’t think seeing us together will make a difference.” Sansa removed herself from him and sat up against her headboard, her hands clutching her covers to protect her from the night air.

Podrick felt his anger rising from the pit of his stomach and he took a deep breath to keep it at bay. The past few weeks with most of Winterfell marching south had been bliss, a paradise where they could exist and be daring, it had been overwhelming, but he wasn’t naïve, he didn’t forget what was at hand. Sansa was not naïve either, instead she was choosing to ignore it, choosing to assume everything would fall in line, trusting her abilities to orchestrate it all, but most annoying at all, she acted like he should not be concerned about it. He supposed it was engrained in her to only think of matters of politics or whatever else concerned the life of a lady, she was out of touch, she did not seem to realise what he was risking and there was nothing he wanted more in that moment to let her know how it bothered him.

“But what about the lords when they come back, what will they think about their lady sleeping with someone much below her status… Let alone the fact she is unwed! They will hate this, we should have been more car-“ 

“Then let’s get married.”

Her words broke him out of his whispered rant, causing him to stare at her dumbfounded. He did not know if she was serious, he did not know if she was playing around, going to their imagined land where everything was perfect, and they could be together effortlessly. Pod went over her words in his head, over and over again, and for what seemed like hours the two fell into silence. She was looking at him expectedly, a slight smile on her face as she took in his shock. It pained him to feel anything but happy at the situation. 

“What?” Somehow he managed to find some words, somehow through all the worry and confusion he managed to speak and that one word made the smile drop from her face.

Looking concerned, Sansa reached out to grasp his hand, her fingers beginning to run over his in a bid to quell his worries. He could tell from the look in her eyes that she was serious, and that scared him even more.

“I mean it, let’s get married and soon. Do it before they come back.” Sansa spoke like it was simplest thing in the world, like nothing else mattered apart from them. Somehow, he wasn’t quite sure when it had happened, the two had swapped roles – he was the one concerned about politics, she had taken his position of just feeling and not thinking.

“That’s ridiculous, stop it.” His words were weak and he did not really mean them. “We need to think of what we can do to stop this getting out, I’m going to go chase down who it was and…I dunno, tell her not to say anything.”

With that he pulled away and stood up, away from her and away from their conversation. He immediately began to pull on the rest of his clothes in a panic, thinking only about what he could do in the situation and what he could say to the poor serving girl who had witnessed the two of them sleeping to get her to keep it quiet. He didn’t for one moment give a look over to the increasingly saddened girl still on the bed watching his every movement.

“Are you ashamed to be with me?” Her weary voice broke the tension in the room and Podrick stopped his mission upon hearing it.

He swallowed when he saw her, understanding in an instant the pain he had been causing at his lack of elation at her proposal. He wanted nothing more than to accept her proposal, to just go along with it and make her happy for the rest of his life but he just couldn’t. There was something within him, a gut feeling that was telling him that he couldn’t, that it wasn’t the right time. He wasn’t a knight yet, the country was in turmoil, many men had already died and many more were still to die, quite frankly he didn’t feel it was appropriate to drop all of that and play husband and wife like the world was not going to shit around them.

“Of course I’m not, but you should be, thank gods you are not…but you still should be, we can’t forget the reality of the situation.” He pleaded with her, hoping that she understood that he did care for her, that he was only acting like that over principal. 

“You’re right, I’m not. That’s why I want to get married.” Sansa spoke like a queen, like the lady she was through and through, so confident and assured in her own thoughts. Podrick wished more than anything that he could feel that also but his wishes were not coming true. 

Sansa had once told him that Starks had a tendency for being stupid when it came to matters of the heart, risking everything just to be with the one they loved. Her eldest brother had died for it, her half-brother had marched an entire army down to King’s Landing for a woman, even her sister had gone so far as to run off to a war zone because someone she loved proposed to her and she didn’t want it. None of them thought clearly when it came to love, and it was evident the eldest Stark girl was following in her family’s footsteps. 

His silence forced her to continue, trying her best to let her know that she had thought it through, that she did know what she was doing. “Think about it, no one will ever approve so it’s best to do it when they are all gone. The queen won’t harm you if you are my husband. I’ve already talked to Lord Royce and made arrangements, we can get married tomorrow if you want but I organised it for –“

“When did you plan on telling me this? When I was already standing in the Godswood?” Podrick did not think before he spoke, and his whisper rose to a level where he supposed it could not be considered as a whisper anymore. 

He felt it in his stomach, in his head – a rage that overcome him and made him clench his fists at his sides. In their relationship he had always felt inferior, always remembered his position, but he had not for one moment felt like he did not have a voice until then. She had acted without asking him, she had gone behind his back and just assumed he would go along with it. Sansa had presumed she was correct, that she could save the situation with her own schemes and in that process she had completely forgotten about consulting him on the matter. She was acting like a lady, like she could solve people’s problems herself without them even knowing, but he was not some random person, he loved her, and without her needing to say it he knew she loved him, yet she still thought she could solve everything on her own. 

“Well I was-“ 

“Sansa you can’t just spring this on me, I should have a say in the matter.” Podrick’s words were brave and curt, and he did not care if his tone hurt her. All he could think about was her tenacity, of her actions and he didn’t bother to think about how he should be speaking to a lady much higher ranking than him.

“I thought you’d be happy.” Sansa looked at the covers, unlike him she was not upset, but she was certainly not happy at the situation.

Podrick was mad at her, angry and completely thinking irrationally – it was the first time he had ever been furious with her. Pod was not one to lose his temper, but in that moment, he was trying his absolute hardest not to kick off. He would have let it pass if it was nothing important, but to get married, to completely change his life forever, to completely change his position was something he hoped he would be able to make the decision about with her. Instead she had made the arrangement, it wouldn’t have surprised him if there was already a septon in the castle ready to perform a wedding, that she had already got cloaks ready, maybe even her dress. That was something they needed to decide together, something they agreed upon beforehand, not something she did and just hoped he would happily go only with without a concern.

“I just wish I knew.” He spoke through gritted teeth, reigning in his anger as much as he could.

Glancing at the door, Podrick knew he needed to leave, all thoughts about chasing down the serving girl gone from his mind. He needed to remove himself from the situation, he needed to leave before he lost control completely and saw a side to himself that he very rarely let out. He knew he was being irrational, that he was blowing things out of proportion, but he did not understand what was coming over him, what was making him so angry. Perhaps he was scared, perhaps it had been lurking under the surface for a while, perhaps it was him finally reacting to the trauma he had been through the night the dead rose. Regardless, he was feeling it, and he wished so desperately to escape but her voice called him back from his thoughts.

“Do you want to marry me?” Anger was rising in Sansa’s voice, her eyes furiously meeting his across the darkness. 

“I don’t know right now.”

* * *

“So you left?” The blacksmith spoke like he had told him the most ridiculous story he had ever heard.

The sun had barely risen yet the blacksmith was already at work, making his way through a pile of repairs that needed to be done after the battle. He was a lord now yet he still wished to work with his hands, wishing to keep himself busy and useful while he was still there. Podrick liked that about him, how he just seemed normal yet still straddled the line with nobility, much like himself. He knew straight away he needed to seek him out, he had thought about it a lot in his room as he waited for dawn, calming down his feelings and thoughts about the situation.

“I didn’t know what else to do.” Podrick leaned against the wooden support to his shop, beginning to feel embarrassed about how he had acted.

He was a fool, he should have said yes, he should have gone along with it. Something had come over him though, he wasn’t sure what it was, but something had told him it wasn’t right, and while he did trust his gut, he couldn’t help but feel stupid in retrospect. It was everything he ever wanted, a girl he could love with his entire heart, a girl who would move heaven and earth to be with him and he had without needing to say anything rejected her. He rejected the Lady of Winterfell, he would never live it down. 

“Mate, you had a beautiful woman propose to you, and you just left?! What were you thinking?” Gendry threw down the hammer he was using and turned to face him properly, his hands on his hips. “Men would kill to be in your position, you could become one of the most powerful men in the country!” 

“I know. I just –“ He sighed, not quite knowing the best words to say what he was feeling. “It was like my gut was telling me I couldn’t, that I was only a squire and that it would only be a disaster…To be honest all I could really think about was that she had gone behind my back, organising stuff without even telling me. I think I should have a say on my own wedding.” 

Gendry nodded with a grin, understanding his concerns yet enjoying the amusement of the situation. “Fine, sure that was not the best move on her part – she should have told you.” He flew his hands up in surrender before continuing. “But you’ve really fucked up here.”

Pod groaned in response, resting his head against the pole, considering in the back of his mind bashing his head against the beam. He had let his emotions get the better of him, it had stopped him from thinking rationally, and he had behaved like a complete fool because of it. Sansa would be fuming at him, upset that he had essentially refused to marry her and angry at his way of thinking. He took comfort in knowing she would never doubt his love for her, he knew more than anything she knew how he felt, but that wouldn’t stop her from wanting to kill him.

It was bound to happen at some point, all couples had fights and they had not had one the entire time they had been together. While they had been together a few months, not once had either of them raised their voice at the other, and even more so Pod couldn’t even recall a time he had been seriously annoyed at the woman. Yes, she infuriated him sometimes, everyone had habits that annoyed others but he never stopped loving her because of it, in fact it only made him want her more, it had actually turned him on. Yet there was something about this time, something different that hit a nerve that completely made him lose it. It could have been worse, he knew deep down that if it was day time and they were out of earshot he would have shouted at her, he would have shown a side of himself he had only seen perhaps only once or twice before. He had never been one to be angry, on the whole he always looked positively at the world, but that did not mean he did not go there, he was human after all.

“You know what I would give to have the woman I love want to be with me? Mate, she actually arranged a wedding for you when it would kill her reputation and even risk her own position, all because she loves you. It may have been stupid but _come on_ , that’s the biggest declaration of love you could ask for.” Gendry slapped his shoulder, speaking to him like he too was annoyed at him and Pod did not blame him.

He had lost a lot, and gained a lot in the process, it was wicked of him to come with this particular problem to him, but Pod felt like he had no one else to talk to. If they could switch places, if he could give up his lordship to have the girl he loved want to be with him Podrick knew he would in a heartbeat. But that couldn’t happen for him, Lady Arya was long gone from Winterfell and what he had heard about her, Podrick did not think she would change her mind any time soon. Gendry’s heart had been ripped out and completely stomped on, yet there he was moaning that someone had asked him to marry them. Podrick felt like a complete prick.

“Look, I’m not saying go run off and marry her because let’s be honest that would be a disaster at the moment.” Gendry continued his lecture, with no hint that he was finding the situation inappropriate. “I’m just saying you’ve been stupid and stubborn. You’re just scared is all, you would marry her but you don’t want to marry this-“ he gestured to the castle around them, “actually no, you don’t feel like you can, because you are so annoyingly humble and polite. I’ve only known you a few weeks and I can tell that. You’re too proper for your own good and it’s about time you let loose and throw all your ‘yes ser’s out of the window.” 

Just like that Gendry had hit the nail on the head and had perfectly told him what he was thinking before he had even known it himself. He was terrified of what it would mean to marry her of all people, terrified of what people would say, and mostly he didn’t think he deserved it. He had not even been knighted, at the best he was merely a son of a minor house branch, he didn't even inherit anything when his father had died. He felt like a fraud, he felt like people would think he was social climbing and unfit to be the husband of a Stark. He had no money, he had no title, the only thing he had was his name and the name Payne did not hold much credit that far north. All that time he had been focused on the fact that they could not marry that he over looked just why he felt that way – it was him that thought he was not worthy, not anyone else.

“What should I do?” Podrick grumbled, hoping that the other man may have some wisdom to remedy his mistake.

Gendry chuckled once more at his pleading. While they understood each other and had become fast friends, there was no overlooking that the two of them were wildly different: Gendry was brash where he was shy; Gendry spoke his mind, Pod did not; and more relevantly, Gendry had no worries laughing in his face when he was clearly not in the mood to joke around. He was just so different, so wild and straightforward that Pod allowed him to get away with it, in fact he liked him for it. His teasing brought a smile onto his face and Pod felt his muscles relaxing upon hearing the man’s carefree laugh. 

“Grovel, grovel a lot.” Gendry turned back to his work before sharply turning back to him. “And then grovel some more.”

The smith returned to his job shaking his head and mumbling under his breath but loud enough that Pod could hear it. “ _Absolute idiot_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pod and his insecurities back at it again...


	15. Miles from Loving You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just loved how polarised all your opinions were about the last chapter that it spurred me to write another so quickly! You were all so split on who was wrong and who was right, it was great to read! I'm definitely of the opinion that they were both wrong, but very much so that Podrick was the one who needed to apologise the most.

* * *

**SANSA**

* * *

It was rather odd feeling being angry with someone she loved, and Sansa felt pulled in numerous ways regarding how she felt about the situation. As equally as she was angry at him, she forgave him, and as much as she wished to have no contact with him she also wished to take her frustrations out on him, and very much so in a way she was sure he would enjoy. Sansa had debated going after him, seeking him out and begging him to explain himself to her, but she had quickly shot that down, her mind filling with rage at the thought of seeing him. A part of her, a part deep down that she didn’t want to pay attention to wanted to seek him out, kiss him breathless until he understood what he was missing out on but she had forced that feeling down, forced herself to remember that she was angry at him. Moreover though, Sansa had thought about apologising to him, forgiving him completely for his indiscretion and allowing him back into her life. She knew she had been wrong and presumptuous, and she knew she needed to apologise for that, and then she remembered what he had done and how his leaving had made her feel, so instead she had decided that she would only apologise when he did it first.

Still, Sansa had already forgiven him partially, it was inexplicable and careless but she had and she knew it. She had seen her mother forgive her father for having an affair (which she knew now was not true but her mother didn’t) and had not understood it, she could not see how her mother could have ever forgiven her father for causing her such pain. While it was a much more extreme situation that the one she was in, Sansa had found herself beginning to understand how her mother had done it. It had come naturally, an increased patience for someone, an ability to always consider their side of the story, and thus Sansa had already begun to forgive her lover without him even needing to say anything, and she had no explanation as to why. Still, despite her feeling, she knew she wished for him to suffer just a little, to feel her pain before she turned around and said she forgave him. Sansa wanted nothing more than to see him beg, to see him grovel for her forgiveness, and she was determined to see him do so.

It had been only a couple of days since their argument, and somehow Sansa had successfully managed to avoid speaking to the man at all cost. She had allowed him to see her though, to see her from a distance and to see her cold features whenever she spared him a look. He needed to feel it, he needed to understand what she had felt, and as petty as it was, she was determined to torture him about it. He had been absence at meals, choosing instead to work through dinner to avoid seeing her, and in return Sansa had made an effort to seek out where he had been working, to walk past him and make him aware of her presence, to let him suffer. It had surprised her how much he had allowed, how he had just let her torment him without saying a word about it, without seeking her out. Podrick had let her do it, let her be petty towards him, and it annoyed her to a great extent that he had not even tried to speak with her.

Closing the book she was looking through, Sansa slid it back onto the shelf with a heavy sigh. For the first time in what felt like years, Sansa Stark felt bored, and she had been bored out of her mind the entire day. Gone were all the lords and their problems that she needed to deal with, gone was the Dragon Queen and her entourage that she felt she always needed to be on guard around, and in their place she had stood in a limbo, unsure what to do with herself other than conducting the clean-up of the castle. In their absence she had turned to Podrick, filling her time with him, enjoying every moment she had with him before reality returned and forced her back into her duties. Yet, that day she couldn’t, that day she did not want to speak with him at all, and this split had caused a gap in her life that she did not know how to fill and for some reason she could not explain she had decided the library was the best place to try and fill his absence.

Her prayers for something to occupy her mind were answered quickly and unwontedly, for almost the second she placed the book back on the shelf did she see him approaching her out of the corner of her eye. He looked dishevelled, more dishevelled than usual and from his quick breath, Sansa assumed that he had just come from training. He had not shaved in a couple of days, and the stubble that usually lingered on his face was beginning to develop into a slight beard which it pained Sansa to admit she rather liked. Mostly, she liked the fact she had had that effect on him, she liked the idea that he had been so bothered by his own actions that he had failed to look after himself. Yet, Sansa was resolute and stubborn, and instead of greeting him with open arms she quickly spun away, walking out of the shelves only to hear his footsteps following behind her.

“Sansa,” he whispered, aware of his surroundings. “We – we need to talk.”

“Lady Sansa.” Sansa retaliated with a smirk, knowing exactly what she aimed to do. “We must be proper, Podrick.”

The only other person in the library was Jon’s friend, the future maester, and he had begun to shuffle uncomfortably at the sudden intrusion of sound into the room. Conscious of his annoyance (and slightly the fact that she did not want him repeating their discussion back to Jon, who she knew was not aware of anything going on between her and Podrick yet and she wished to keep it that way), Sansa moved out of the room, her lover shuffling along the floor in her shadow.

“Sansa – _Lady_ Sansa, please?” He had grasped her arm the moment they stepped outside into the deserted corridor, and Sansa felt herself flinching at the sudden rough movements.

It was not the aggressiveness of his grasp that caused her anger to flare up, in fact she had rather enjoyed the sudden contact after not feeling his skin against hers for some time. However, it was his voice, the same tone he had taken before he had begun to almost shout at her, the desperate, panicked tone that transported her right back to that morning in her bed. She remembered her anger at him, she remembered her sadness, and she was beginning to question how she had begun to forgive him in his absence. 

“Why do you think I want to talk to you?” Sansa snapped back at him, her voice reverberating in the corridor.

Without needing a second to think, Sansa took off once more, her feet instinctively following the path back to her living quarters, away from the situation. She had started to forgive him, she had even teased him about it, yet when she was confronted finally by him Sansa had found that all patience she had for him had left her body. In its place she felt irritation, she had felt the anger, she wished for him to leave her alone, she wanted him to leave and never speak to her again, and yet part of her wanted him to kiss her, to push her up against the wall and tell her how much he missed her. But, despite her silent pleas he decided to follow her, not wishing to let the matter go unspoken of.

“I need to explain.” He called after her, not giving a thought to who might hear him speak so openly towards her.

Podrick confused her completely, in some situations he would not dare speak to her in public, in others, when he wasn’t thinking or was feeling bold, he would not care and he would speak loudly. He was constantly contradicting himself, torn between his thoughts, and Sansa was quickly finding herself loosing her tolerance for it. She understood why he was weary, she knew the risk he was taking for her, but she did not appreciate the constant flopping between being overly cautious and a man filled only with passion. 

“Not apologise?” She barked back, praying that they would not encounter anyone.

She rounded into the hall and was relieved to find it completely empty, for it was mid-afternoon and most of the castle’s residents would be preoccupied with their various jobs. While she did not mind being seen with him, it was a different matter completely to be seen arguing with him, storming through the halls of Winterfell deep in a lover’s quarrel that would not only inspire criticism but would spark curiosity of what their debate was over. Spurred on by the lack of onlookers, Sansa strode quickly towards her living quarters, crossing the length of the hall as quickly as she could. She wished for him to leave her alone, she wished for him to go, but if he was going to stay and argue with her she wanted them to at least be in private.

“That too, of course. I was going to open with the apology.” His voice sounded frazzled, like he too was quickly losing his patience at the encounter.

As she reached the heavy door that led to her family’s quarters, she turned to face him, her hands placed firmly against the door. “Podrick, I very much doubt anything you will say to me will make me forgive you at this moment.”

For a moment she took him in, watching as the anger rose in his eyes once again, admiring the steadfast look of determination on his face at his mission. Sansa noted how much he had grown, he looked just like he had after he had climbed out of her bed that morning, long gone was the idiotic Podrick she remembered and in its place stood the man she had grown to love, the man that infuriated her, the man that could make her laugh and the one she felt like she could say anything to because he cared. He was the same man but appeared different, all because now she loved him, and with that love she cared so much about him that she allowed herself to feel anger towards him. He was a man now, her man, her lover, and the passion that came along with it was the same passion that made her mad at him. 

Without wasting another second, Sansa pushed through the door, not bothering to hold it open for him to pass through. Podrick caught the door however just before it closed, his single hand holding open the door with more ease than her whole body had managed to. He was strong, strong enough to hold her down and force her to listen to him yet he would not, and that was precisely why some part of her wished him to do just that. The overwhelming fury she was feeling towards him was matched by a need to kiss him, a wish that he would stop arguing with her and let his frustrations out on her body, and the thought scared her so much she chose to ignore it. Never before had she thought about him like that, wishing for him to just have his way with her, and she did not wish to begin to understand why she was thinking it at that moment.

Podrick continued to follow her towards her room, stopping her in her steps just before she came to the stairs by standing in front of her, forcing her to stop before she hit him. His voice was softer than before, his eyes filled with desperation. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left.”

Sansa weakly rolled her eyes at him, trying her hardest not to fall for his pitiful look. “You are right, you shouldn’t. Besides, the offer is gone now, I sent the septon away this morning.”

All hopes she had of marring him were crushed, and it had taken her an entire day to decide on asking the septon to leave Winterfell, understanding that they would not be married any time soon. She understood her mistake, she understood what she was asking him and how he could not agree to it. Yet it had still pained her anyway, as if by sending him away she sent with it any hopes of having an easy marriage to him, a falsehood she had chosen to believe. She had been purposely naïve, she had for some foolish reason decided to ignore their situation, and it had taken her a day to realise her mistakes.

“I was not coming to accept.” His eyes met the floor as he spoke, unable to look her in the eye.

His words were true and expected, but they had offended her anyway.

“You weren’t?” Her tone was bitter and left a sour taste in her mouth.

She understood what he was meaning, she knew what he was trying to say, yet all her mind could think about was why he didn’t want to, why he was not jumping at the chance to marry her. It would elevate his status instantly and dramatically, he would get power and money that he could use however he wanted, mostly he would have her, and she was insulted that he did not want that. 

“Sansa,” his eyes finally met hers once more only to be confronted with a very pointed look from her.  “ _Sansa_ , we both know that it couldn’t work like that. If we are going to do it we need to do it properly, otherwise we will be spending our entire lives trying to prove ourselves.”

He was right, so very right and it pained her to admit it. If they were to marry the only option was to do it correct, to have a public courtship, to allow him to win over the North and more importantly her lords and ladies, to prove to them all that he was worth of marrying far above his station. Mostly, she needed to establish that she was to marry for love, that she would not agree to any of their suitors which she knew they were already beginning to plan for once they returned from the south. They would be enraged that she, already a woman and thereby down in their estimates, would not allow them the chance to elevate their status within the country, they would hold that against her. No, they needed to do it properly as he had said, but that did not mean she had to admit it to him.

“Now, Podrick, I do the politics here, not you.” She smirked at him, knowing it would irritate him to no end. “I think it would have been fine, tough yes, but it would be fine nonetheless.”

“No it wouldn’t and you know it.” Podrick shook his head, not wanting to play along with her silly games.

In that instant she realised how well he knew her, how well he had grown to understand her mind and it infuriated her. He knew her, perhaps better than everyone else, and he was not even politically minded. All it had taken him to understand her was a few months of close contact following years of just being acquaintances. Podrick knew exactly what she was thinking, just like she did him and the power that came with that was daunting. 

“Don’t presume to know me when you don’t.” She spoke, equally as mad at him and she was herself for letting it happen.

For the first time in their argument, she saw Podrick rise to her level, a wave of cockiness that he usually reserved for their most intimate moments coming over him as he raised an eyebrow at her, his eyes bright with knowing he was correct. Sansa felt like slapping him in that moment, angered by his ability to drive her to such extremes of irritation with very little effort. Instead, she resolved to leave, to be rid of his presence and to go back to being lonely and annoyingly wishing for him to contact her again.

“Well aren’t you bold all of a sudden, may I remind you of the bumbling idiot I met in King’s Landing? Go back to being that.” She snapped at him before turning away, if she could not go to her room than she would at least make it to her family sitting room.

He caught her before she could go far, this time grabbing her hands with both of his and forcing her to face him with his gentle touch. Gone was the bold look on his face, gone was any seeds of anger that her actions were deliberately causing him and, in its place, stood a man broken, a man who wanted nothing more than to let her know how much he cared. Sansa felt herself falling for him all over again, completely wielding to him, all fury she had towards him completely removed. She loved him, she loved him so very much, and the only thing keeping her from thoroughly forgiving him was her own stubbornness.

“Sansa I’m sorry I hurt you, truly. You should know by now that I’d do anything to not hurt you.” His eyes flickered between hers as he spoke, as if he was carefully taking in her reaction, praying that the words he was saying was correct. 

“Well clearly not enough.” Her resilience was frail but it was there, her tone as sharp as she could muster.

“I can explain.” His fingers squeezed her palms, the warmth that came with them fought against the tenacity of her stubborn Stark nature.

She couldn’t speak, for she knew if she did she would end up relenting, allowing him back into her life despite her mind screaming at her to let him suffer some more. His eyes, locked onto hers like his life depended on it, were overpowering, a steady reminder of how he felt and how sorry he was and they were quickly working away at destroying the walls she had built to protect herself from forgiving him so quickly.

“I was scared, alright. Scared and angry that you went behind my back.”

All his work was undone by his words, as Sansa was confronted with the thing that had irritated her the most about that night. She had not told him about her plans but she was going to, and yes, maybe she should have asked him before she had started preparations, but she certainly did not deliberately do it. Sansa had simply just not told him, it wasn’t a calculated decision, it was just something she had decided spur of the moment and had excitedly decided to organise before she had had chance to tell him. She knew she had been wrong for doing so looking back on it, but the idea that she had chosen not to tell him until later was completely false.

“Must I tell you everything I do?” Sansa’s voice rose again as she spoke without thinking of a rational argument.

Instantly, his hands dropped from hers, the tender moment ruined and replaced with one filled with anger and passion once again. His jaw tightened as he stated furiously at her, his mind racing with everything he wanted to say to her but he couldn’t, he didn’t, and when he did spoke he forced out his words like they were painful to say.

“Sansa.” He warned - she had been successful in pushing him. “Stop it.”

Not wanting to stomach him for much longer, Sansa finally made her way into their sitting room, not bothering to even listen to see whether or not he was following. She would ignore him if he was, pay him no attention until he left out of frustration, for she no longer wished to put up with him that day. For a moment she felt like all would be well, that she could forgive him completely, that things would return to what they once were but her stubbornness had not let her, and instead she felt more removed from him that she had previously. Sansa, however, was stopped yet again the moment she took a step into the room, and this time I was not by Podrick.

“Bran?” Sansa question his presence there, gawping at him as he sat in his chair by the fire. 

It was evident from his empty stare that he had been waiting for her, and from the way his knowing eyes took in the sight of her and her lover close behind her, he already knew what they had been up to and why they were arguing. Sansa had never spoken to her brother about Podrick before, they never had been siblings who spoke much, for they were too different and too much apart in age to have anything in common, but Sansa knew he was aware of her lover – Bran knew everything. This knowledge however did not stop Sansa from becoming flustered and embarrassed at her younger brother seeing the two of them together and seeing them in such a passionate state. 

“I’ll take my leave.” Podrick whispered from his place in the doorway, his next words he spoke only to her. “Please, Sansa.”

She was unaware what he was asking, what he wanted her to do, but she did not care. All she could think about was her brother and how awkward the encounter was, any thoughts she had about what they were arguing over had gone. Her anger remained though, and Sansa felt like she could not look at him for fear she would start shouting again.

“Podrick should stay.” Her brother’s words were shocking and threw the both of them into a state of confusion.

It was confirmation to the both of them that he knew, that he was aware about them and didn’t care. He knew about everything, about the kisses, about the arguments, about their situation, and yet he did not care, he neither approved nor disapproved. Instead, he spoke of them as if they were emotionless, some fact that didn’t need much consideration yet despite Bran wishing for Podrick to remain in the room for whatever reason, Sansa did not want him to and was not going to endure it for her brother’s sake.

“I don’t want him to.” Sansa pouted like the young girl Bran remembered from before she ever left Winterfell and Sansa was past caring.

“He needs to stay.” Bran repeated, and there was something about the certainty of his words that made Sansa not want to argue with him.

Bran had been right, Podrick needed to be there. As he spoke to them, Podrick had come into the room completely, closing the door behind him and settling next to her like it was his rightful place. Bran’s words become lost on her until she only heard the odd word as he spoke. _Jon…Knife…Prison…Tyrion…Dead…Execution…Help._ Her hand found his as her brother spoke and her problems increased with every word he said. She needed him there, he was her anchor, her constant, her other half that completed her and made her feel whole. Sansa would need him more in the coming weeks, she would need him to help her rescue her brother from King’s Landing, she needed his support, and any thoughts Sansa had about petty arguments were forgotten completely.

* * *

He had stayed with her all evening, his hand grasped tightly in hers as they sat on chairs by the hearth in her bedroom, staring into the fire and ignoring the world around them. They did not speak, they did not go to dinner with the others, instead they sat in complete silence, their minds racing about what they would do. Podrick did not want to leave her, and she was deeply grateful for it – if he was to leave her, if he was to go back to his own room, she was not sure she would be able to hold herself together.

Sansa thought of her brother, worried about him and what she could do to get him out of prison. She thought about why he had done it, what he had thought when he decided to stab the woman he loved for the people of Westeros, would she have been able to do it? She doubted it, but then Podrick was not the source of the people’s harm, maybe if he was, she would be able to muster it. She thought of their argument, about how petty and meaningless it felt, how she had been acting like a terror just to inflict pain onto him when so many people could not even talk or be with their love. Everything had been brought into perspective, everything mattered again and Sansa remembered how lucky she was, and how one argument where they were both at fault would not change that.

“I’m sorry for being awful to you earlier.” She spoke after hours of silence, her thumb running across the back of the hand she was holding tightly in her lap. 

At her words, Podrick sighed, smiling over at her broadly as if all the worries from his body had been removed by her voice. Despite all that had happened he looked content, leaning against the back of the chair as if he was relaxing, any signs that he too had been deep in thought had left him. He was handsome, she had always thought of him so, but she was reminded of it every time he smiled his boyish grin, and the newly formed beginnings of a beard upon his face increased his looks further.

“I deserved it.” He spoke softly and gave her hand a squeezed. She had missed his voice, she had missed his simplicity. 

“You did. Still doesn’t make it right.” Sansa smiled at his frankness, satisfied that the two were speaking to each other once more as normal.

Sitting up properly, Podrick leaned forward, removing his hand from hers and running it across his face. “Let’s talk about this later, there’s other things that need to be dealt with, plans to be made.” He groaned into his hands, evidently not wishing to talk about his emotions in that moment. 

Sansa was brought back to her thoughts in an instant: What would she do? How could she help? When could she act? All those questions ran through her head and she did not know the answers to any of them. Bran had been coy, not wishing to sway her mind in any way about what she should do, instead she was left to her own devices, completely out of her depth at the situation. She did not know warfare if there was to be a battle, neither did she know how she would orchestrate it from up north. She did not understand the Unsullied leader, she did not know how he acted, how he thought, he was unlike all the rulers in Westeros and Sansa did not know how he functioned. She had a lot of work to do, a lot of things to ponder, and she had no clue where to start.

“I don’t know what to do. I think I should get the men out of the city just in case fighting breaks out again… Also to stop all the horror.” Bran had told her about what had happened, how her own men had joined the Dothraki as they went through the streets, pillaging and raping as they went. It made her sick to her stomach, her own men had done that and she could do nothing about it. “Why do men find the need to rape and kill people?” 

She did not expect an answer, nor was she after one, she had only proposed the question to the universe, knowing that there would never be a true answer as to why people felt the need to harm one another, especially for their own sexual pleasure. It surprised her however, when the man next to her felt he could answer her question.

“Power I suppose.” He shrugged his shoulders, his brow furrowing at the thought. 

It did not scare her that he knew that, nor did it change the way she felt about him in the slightest, but it did create a curiosity within her that she was determined to quell. He would never hurt her, she knew that and believed it with her entire heart, but had he ever wanted to? Had he ever thought about it? She herself had thought about hitting him earlier, and she was considered as being the fairer sex, did he think the same awful thoughts but to a much worse degree than herself?

“Have you ever wanted to hurt me?” Sansa made sure that her tone was not pointed yet it still made his eyes open wide in surprise.

“No, of course not.” He begun to defend himself, not quite sure why she was mentioning it. 

“Really never, not even hit me? Not even earlier when I was being awful to you?” Her eyebrows raised, wanting to know the answer to the question.

While her father had never hit her mother to her knowledge, she knew it was common practice for husbands to hit their wives if they acted up, it angered her and upset her, but she knew it was true. Podrick would never lay a finger on her, yet Sansa wondered if there was something within men, some need to hit and cause pain that some could keep a better grip on than others. Maybe that was why Ramsay had been so rough, maybe that was why Littlefinger did not hesitate to make her life a living hell, maybe that was all they thought about.

“No… I mean-“

“What?” Sansa cut him off in surprise.

“Do you really want to have this conversation?” Podrick grumbled, grimacing over to at her as she nodded him to continue. 

“Well. Som-sometimes when you irritate me a little – which you only sometimes do – I do think about being a bit rough with you… as in when we are bed.” His cheeks flushed red as he spoke and his eyes flickered over to the bed behind them, a bed where she had had her way with him more times than she could count.

“Oh.” She was embarrassed, not thinking he would ever say that. The thought made her blood rush, it made her want to find out what he was talking about, to experience it. Contrary to what she had experienced in the past, Sansa found herself becoming excited at the thought of Podrick being rough with her, rough in a primal, animalistic way that she had on occasion felt towards him. She wanted it, she wanted to know what it felt like, to enjoy it and completely give herself up to him, to let him do whatever he wanted and knowing that she allowed it, that she wanted him to and that she had the power to stop it at any moment.

“I don’t think about taking you against your will, or anything like that. But I do think about, you know, being a little rougher next time.” He continued hesitantly, unaware that she was not worried about him ever forcing her. 

She knew exactly what he was speaking of though she did not realise she had ever thought it. She thought about it whenever he smirked knowingly at her, whenever he had a bout of boldness that annoyed her - she wanted to kiss the smirk off his face. Whenever he was too polite and proper, too concerned with what people thought she considered showing him just how carnal he could be, reminding him of how he acted far from proper towards her most of the time. More recently, she had almost enjoyed their argument, she had thought about kissing him in a rage, pulling him close to her and letting him know through her touches just how angry she was at him. It was normal, what they were experiencing was normal, and Sansa felt a great sense of relief at the thought. 

“You know, when you annoy me, I think exactly the same. Earlier I wanted nothing more than to push you against the bookcase and shut you up.” She smirked at him, reaching over to pull his hand back into hers reassuringly. He was a good man, and if the only thoughts he had about hurting her was to be a more passionate in bed than she was sure he was perfect. 

“That’s not very ladylike.” He whispered, the excitement at the thought present in his voice. “I’d have liked that.”

Podrick blushed as he admitted it, his eyes flickering over to her as he grinned at himself. He was pure, completely honest and straightforward. Never before did Sansa feel she would be with a man who was so open, so happy to discuss his emotions or what he wanted in bed. Instead, Sansa had expected her future lover to be just as cold as she was, their marriage emotionless but their friendship strong, and lucky for her she had ended up with something much better.

“Is it a common thing for men to want to hurt women, like my men in King’s Landing?” Sansa finished, unsure if his confession meant he was a fluke, some man who didn’t think like the others. It scared her to think of them, the men that she trusted to fight her cause forcing themselves on people just because they wanted to. She thought of the women, of how they felt, of how they would feel afterwards, and it saddened her to think that the pain would be caused by the North.

“No. Gods no. Those people are just cruel.” Podrick’s brow furrowed in anger at the thought. “Any man who forces themselves on women is evil but I’ll be honest, I haven’t come across many who want to. Men talk, of course, but I’ve only ever heard on a couple of occasions someone even threaten that and even then, I doubt they would have gone through with it.” He looked over at her momentarily and saw her sadness, “I won’t let another person lay a hand on you. I’ll cut their hands off or any other part of them they think to touch you with.”

Sansa laughed at his words for she knew they were true. It relieved her to think it was an uncommon thought, that it was something only evil men do and not something stirring inside all men, and the thought of Podrick fighting all of them off for her was something she knew he would do wholeheartedly if he had to. She had been unlucky before, she had been exposed to some evil men, but her luck had settled out, and now she had someone with her who would do anything in his power to not let anyone hurt her. Podrick Payne truly was a good person, and he was entirely hers.

“I don’t like arguing with you, it felt wrong.” Podrick spoke quietly, and Sansa found herself forgiving him entirely at his words.

“I agree, and yet all I wanted to do was shout at you further.” She rolled her eyes, remembering their chat about how they seemed to only want to touch each other when they were angry.

“Lovers’ passion I suppose.” Podrick started, grinning over to her playfully, his mind too on their earlier conversation. “You love someone so much that when they drive you mad all you want to do is shout at them and kiss them.”

“Let’s not fight anymore then, not over this, its worthless.” Sansa played with his fingers, and with a deep breath she decided it was time to finally listen. “I forgive you, I don’t know why but I do. Though I’d like an explanation, and I want it now not later. I can’t really do anything about Jon until I’ve consulted the others and I suspect that will be tomorrow.”

Podrick opened his mouth to speak before quickly closing it again. Sansa watched as his eyes moved away from hers and towards the fire, his mind clearly racing with the correct way to address it. While she knew him well, she could not put her finger on just why he had acted how he did, what had caused his reaction to be as big as it was. She knew he worried a lot about them, of how people would react and the sacrifices they would have to make as a result yet never before had he gotten angry about it, in fact never before had she seen him that angry. Something had caused it, something she didn’t know about, and she was finally ready to listen to what that was instead of trying to work it out for herself.

After a moment, Podrick began to speak again, this time confident in this thoughts. “I don’t know what got me so angry, I really don’t. All I could focus on was what you had done and not why, I didn’t even think about what you had asked, it was like I couldn’t. I told Gendry about it-“

“The smith?” Sansa broke off, wishing to clarified if he was discussing Arya’s Gendry or someone else entirely.

“Yes, we’re sort of friends now. Anyway, I told him and he said I was probably scared and I think he was right.” Podrick looked over to her like he had just told her his biggest secret despite him not really telling her much at all.

“Scared about marrying me?” Sansa prompted, unsure if she wanted to know the answer.

“More so about marrying the Lady of Winterfell than you. I’d marry you in a heartbeat.” Sansa squeezed his hand at the thought, her heart melting at his words. “I dunno, I just don’t feel worthy.”

Sansa had never felt more in love with him as she did in that moment. She understood now, she knew what he had been thinking and how wrong he had been. He was everything to her, her perfect, sweet man who thought more about her needs than she was sure anyone had done in her entire life. He had fought for her, followed her across the country, even left her against his will when she had commanded it of him, and most importantly he had loved her, and done so unreservedly. Podrick was everything she had ever wished for and more, the kind doting knight she had dreamed about as a young girl and that he did not know it made him even more appealing. 

She was not an overtly warm person, she did not like speaking about her feelings anymore, she didn’t like to be as romantic as Podrick seemed to be, but she knew she needed to be in that moment. It scared her to be so open, to let him know in words what she had tried to show him in her actions yet she understood he needed to hear it, to hear from her lips just once how perfect he was and then maybe he would begin to believe it.

“You don’t understand how worthy you are. You are kind, brave, funny, gentle, and every bit the knight I know you’ll be one day. The fact you can’t even see that makes you worthy, more worthy than any lord or prince could ever be.” Sansa hesitated for a moment before she allowed herself to say it, something that she had denied him off all that time. “And I love you for it.”

She did not get to see the reaction on Podrick’s face before he decided to kiss her, thoroughly and like he had never kissed her before. The space between their chairs must have been uncomfortable for him yet he continued to kiss her like his life depended on it, like she was his life line and had taught him how to live. She regretted not saying it before, she should have told him the moment she knew, she should have returned him the joy she felt when he had told her as soon as she could. Sansa began to feel breathless, the kind of breathless where she couldn’t think, she couldn’t function, where she thought of everything and nothing all at once. The kiss was filled with love, pure, unfiltered love that she was only just beginning to discover the meaning of.

“I promise the next time you ask me to marry you I’ll say yes.” He spoke quickly as soon as he broke away, his forehead resting on hers for a moment before settling back against his own chair, the smile on his face as big as the moon.

“Who says there will be a next time?” She teased in an instant, falling back into their old ways, just how they were before their argument. “You missed your chance.”

Podrick chuckled, pulling their joint hand up to his lips and kissing her fingers softly. “You’ll never let me live this down, will you?” He shook his head in playful disbelief, allowing himself to be ridiculed by her as he knew he should be. 

“Never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh this chapter was so easy to write, it really took me back to the when I fell in love for the first time and had my first really argument with them - that really fine line between being angry at them and then also wanting to sleep with them at the same time? I'm sure most of you would have experienced it before and how confusing it is, I felt this matter would be even more confusing for Sansa who has had zero experience really of what its like to be so passionate about someone. I really tried to hone in on that confusion and I hope it works well.
> 
> I've been wanting to include the idea of Sansa asking Pod about hurting people for a while but didn't know how to bring it up, I think it works here and I tried my best to make it as awkwardly sweet as I'm sure it would be of a discussion for them. I felt like it was a conversation needed to have, especially when ever man she had every encountered outside of her family seemed to be corrupt in some way. I also just loved the idea of Pod just being very blasé talking about sex, and then becoming very embarrassed at himself for being that way in front of her.
> 
> And to all those wanting a confidant for Sansa...they are coming, just wait...


	16. Miles from Touching

* * *

**PODRICK**

* * *

The ride down to King’s Landing could only be described by Podrick as torturous. He had traversed the country numerous times, up and down the King’s Road (more often off it than on), through wind and rain, sunshine and snow, yet none of those times had been as gruelling as his current one. It was not the snow covered ground that made it so hard (although that was certainly a factor), neither was it the tedious conversation he had been exposed to from riding next to Ser Jaime and Brienne, who were trying their hardest to include him in their conversation when they all knew they much rather he wasn’t there. Instead, it was the presence of the perpetually graceful Sansa Stark on the trip that made it hard for Podrick to concentrate.

They had left the sanctity of Winterfell, Maester Wolkan and a few trusted men had been left to guard the place as their masters dealt with the matter of Jon Snow, and their journey had very much so put a block on his relationship with the lady. While everyone except Brienne almost certainly knew about what was happening between them, there was something improper about being in such close quarters with her men and publicly declaring their love for one another that the two had come to a silent arrangement that they would not communicate. For him, the logic was that he would feel awkward, especially with Brienne never too far away, but he knew for her it was something much more. It was one thing having rumours circulated about her, it was an entirely different matter to see her flirting openly and so up close, unwed and unbetrothed to a man much lower than her status, one who she was not even publicly courting.  It was a risk neither of them wish to take, especially since they had clearly stated their intentions to one another; they wanted to make it work, they wanted to make it as easy as they could for themselves, and if that meant the two of them couldn’t speak for a few weeks then so be it.

However, while in theory the idea had been sound, the execution of it was the opposite, and thus Podrick spent his days pining after his lover, unable to hide his longing stares or frequent glances. He missed her, he missed her voice, he missed her touch, and what made matters even worse was that she was so close to him, so close yet unattainable – the whole ordeal was becoming unbearable. She was always around, talking to various lords around the camp at night, closing talking to Lord Royce as she rode her horse during the day, and all Podrick could do was watch and feel lonely. On occasion she would throw him a glance, a moment where her eyes would meet his and he could almost feel the same feeling of longing from her, before she would break the contact just to return to her role, acting like there was nothing wrong. Podrick did not have that power, however, and he had become openly miserable, sulking throughout the day and refusing to speak much at night.

Brienne was not best pleased at his attitude and had chosen to reprimand him regularly only to be calmly told each time by Ser Jaime to leave him alone. It had only taken him a day into their journey before he decided that he liked Jaime, and not in the way that one liked an acquaintance. No, Jaime Lannister felt like a friend, an ally, someone who always seemed to have his back and did so without wanting anything in return. It was the same way he had felt towards Lord Tyrion before he had taken up with the Dragon Queen, and hopefully it would feel the same when he met him again now that there was no threat keeping them apart. Jaime Lannister was a good man, Podrick had decided, a good man with a dark past, and he was completely perfect for Brienne. He had grown grateful for his interruptions, grateful for his willingness to stand up for him when she was being too harsh, but moreover Podrick was grateful that he was there, that he had stayed loyal despite everything that had happened in the south; Jaime was there, Jaime had stayed, and there was no greater reflection of his character than that.

Likewise, Podrick was beyond thankful that Gendry had decided to make the trip after debating the matter for some time. Sansa had told him before they left that there was to be some sort of council, a jury that she had organised to decide on the fate for her brother and Lord Tyrion and that Gendry, as Lord of Storm’s End had been asked to sit upon it. Gendry had revealed to him his worries, his fears about being an imposter, the possibility that he would undoubtedly be in close contact with Arya at the meeting. After a few long talks the two had cultivated his bravery and he had decided that he would attend, which was a blessing as it had ensured that Podrick could have someone to talk to other than his knight and her lover.

Each evening they sat together outside the young lord’s tent, drinking and chatting, contemplating the world together and making plans for the future. It had already been decided that if things did not end right with Sansa, Podrick would go to be with him at Storm’s End as some sort of position within his household. Equally, it had been decided that if he did remain in Winterfell and Gendry had decided his castle was not right for him that he could return north and that Podrick would speak to Lady Sansa about allowing him to stay. They felt like blood brothers, forever bound and looking out for each other despite their wildly different personalities, and Podrick would not change their relationship for the world. Sansa aside, never before had he had a friend that was his age, a friend he could tell everything to with no fear of judgement, a friend he could laugh with and not think of politics. Gendry and Pod were simple, they were men, they didn’t care about who was plotting against whom, they just worked – and it was the only thing getting Pod through the long journey to King’s Landing in Sansa’s absence. 

That particular night, the two of them had situated themselves on a log conveniently besides the ale barrels, preparing themselves for a night of drinking and chatting as they were wont to do. They had very little to report to each other that night, Gendry disclosed to him a chat he had overheard from Bran regarding the three-eyed raven that neither of them could understand, and Podrick could only recall an interesting line he heard Jaime mutter about his sister. Otherwise, the two had taken upon dwelling over their current situations, mulling over the future, about Gendry’s role and what that traditionally meant, about what Podrick would do about his situation with Sansa. It had surprised Podrick how interested the other man was about his situation considering his recent heartbreak with the other Stark sister, and Podrick had answered all of his many questions, some to more detail than he would usually divulge to anyone else. 

“If Brienne stays in King’s Landing, will you stay?” Gendry asked him after a moment of contemplation, his eyes taking in the numerous men in different states of drunkenness around the nearby fire.

Gendry’s question was something he had been mulling over himself, for he did feel like his knight’s time protecting Sansa was drawing to a close. It was just a suspicion, nothing Brienne had vocalised to him, but he had an inkling that Brienne would not be making the trip back up to Winterfell. Sansa Stark did not need guarding anymore, she had flourished and there would be a new King or Queen decided soon, and with that came a lot of opportunities arising for people like her, with titles but no strict allegiance, someone who had proved themselves to a number of different people, she would do well in the capital, and Jaime belonged in the south. It was not a leap for Pod to assume that his master would decide to stay there, and that decision would undoubtedly put himself in a very awkward spot, one that he was unsure what he would do. 

“I suppose I’ll have to stay with Lady Brienne. It’s my duty.” Podrick grumbled, not wishing to dwell on the inner turmoil he was beginning to feel.

It would break his heart to leave Sansa, to be in a completely different section of the country to her, to not be with her, to have little contact. Part of him felt he would leave with her, return up north and abandon all hopes he had about being a knight and yet part of him reminded him he would not be that daring, that he had never been that daring. He had a responsibility, he had dreams, and there was no doubting that him becoming a ser would help his situation with Sansa greatly. It was the right thing to do, and that was the decision he had found himself leaning towards.

“And leave Sansa?” Gendry sounded shocked at his reply, assuming that he would drop everything to be with the lady.

All Podrick could do was shrug and pray that their conversation would end. He did not feel like discussing the matter, he didn’t even want to think about it. It was coming, he knew soon he would be forced to make a decision, yet he could not face it, he did not want to. Part of him was praying it wouldn’t happen, that something would change and his presumptions would be false, that Brienne would return to Winterfell, or that Sansa would stay in the South. Gendry was of the opinion that Sansa would put herself forward as queen but Podrick knew better, all she wanted was the North, it would be a drastic change if she decided to stay south but it was one outcome he was hoping for.

“What about if you get knighted? What then?” Gendry continued, not fussed that he was clearly causing the other man distress during their time to rest and be merry.

“I honestly don’t know.” 

But he did, he would leave King’s Landing the night it happened, he would go north, go be with her. It shamed him that he would be that fickle, that he would drop everything, Brienne, Tyrion, everyone just to go be with her but it was true, he would stop everything. The thought scared him, and he hoped he would have the courage to face it if it came to that. Previously he had thought things and not acted, he had kept quiet when he should have talked, and he hoped this time he had the strength to act as he was thinking, instead of staying in King’s Landing longing to leave. 

“Oh, look sharp!” Gendry’s hand flew out to slap his shoulder, almost knocking the cup of ale out of Pod’s hand.

Podrick’s head whipped up to where the other man was looking and was surprised to find the woman that had been on his mind constantly for weeks approaching them. In her hand was an empty cup, and she walked over to a barrel to refill it, her eyes on him the entire time. It was a clear message for him to join her, she wouldn’t be there if not, she would have sent a servant to go do it for her, she certainly would not have come and done it herself. With a sharp push from Gendry, Podrick muttered under his breath something about getting another drink and hoped out of his seat with glee.

He made quick work of getting to her, deciding to stand quietly besides her as she continued to pour her drink. While they were not touching, he felt her presence next to him, he felt the tingling pull of her body next to his and he wished for nothing else but to reach out and close the distance. Yet he knew he couldn’t, he knew he shouldn’t be there at all but the offer had been too tempting.

“Lady Sansa.” Her title sounded foreign on his lips after months of not calling her that in front of her. To him she was just Sansa, just a woman who he loved not some fancy lady who ran her own castle. 

“Podrick.”

It was a relief just to hear her voice, to feel her so close to him. Frankly she could leave there and then and that brief second they had stood together would have been enough to fulfil his needs for a lifetime. He wished for nothing more than to simply ask how she was, to check how she was doing, and yet he felt like he could not say anything at all, he wouldn’t dare. There were eyes upon them, he could feel the weight of their stares, people were watching their interaction, people were seeing what they would do and whether it would reveal anything about their supposed relationship.

“You know, Podrick, there is a loose sheet in my tent that really needs to be seen to as anyone could walk in, it’s around the back.” He could tell her face was plastered with the suggestive smirk he had come to know well, he could hear it in her voice. 

Podrick blushed at her words, his heartbeat starting to race at what he knew what she was suggesting. He wondered how long she had been planning this for, how long it had taken her to extend the invitation, and whether it was a matter of waiting until the right moment or when she felt daring enough to do it.

“Oh really?” His voice betrayed his excitement, coming out as more as a squeak than a hushed whisper. “That sounds like it needs sorting.”

Sansa turned to him, the corners of her mouth only slightly rising as she took her leave, choosing not to look at him any further. For a moment, Podrick stood dumbfounded, his eyes searching the nearby men to gauge their reactions yet he could not read their faces. Following along with the disguise, he leant down and filled up his already quite full cup and hastily made his way over to a wide-eyed Gendry. 

“Well, that’s your cue!” Gendry sang at him as he grinned from ear to ear. Immediately he took his drink from him, already knowing without needing to be told that Podrick had been summoned somewhere. 

“She wants me to go to her tent.” Podrick swallowed, suddenly getting nervous about the entire situation.

He did not know what she wanted from him, whether or not she was wishing for a chat or something more. He thought of how many people could overhear, about how many people could walk in to her tent at any moment for official business, and the idea made him both scared to death and oddly excited. Nervously, Podrick began to straighten out his clothes, brushing the wrinkles out of his cloak to the best of his abilities, like he was going to speak with her for the first time ever. It felt new, it felt exciting, it felt exactly as it had done when he had kissed her down in the crypts, the fuzzy, uneasy feeling that somehow made him feel thrilled.

“Lucky bastard.” Gendry mumbled to himself, his eyes filled with amusement as he watched his friend go into a mental panic.

“Do I look alright?” Podrick stumbled out, his hands in his hair trying his best to get it to lay straighter than it was.

Podrick wished he had shaved recently, he wished he had taken a thorough wash, but that was life on the road, no one had time to do such a things and he was not fortunate enough to have a bathtub in his tent whenever he wished for it as he was certain Sansa would have. His hair was much longer than it had ever been, his decision to grow it partially to do with the lack of supplies on the road and partially to do with Sansa expressing her fondness for his longer hair. His beard was, well - a beard, or at the very least the start of one, it was not patchy anymore, it had finally all grown in and Podrick had only just gotten used to the feeling of it on his face.  He supposed it made him look more northern, for clean shaven and short hair was very much in style in the South and Podrick was beginning to like it on him, it made him look older and less green, but he had not yet mastered styling it. 

“I’d kiss you.” Gendry shrugged while Podrick pushed his hair back behind his ears, drawing his panic to a close.

While it was irrational and he doubted he actually looked much better, Podrick felt more confident from his preparations, standing taller and allowing his mind to ease its anxiety. In reality he looked as scruffy as one would expect from weeks of travelling, but he certainly didn’t look as bad as some of the other men on the journey, at least Podrick had tried to keep up his appearance to the best of his ability.

“Thanks.” Podrick took little notice of Gendry’s playful words as he tore away from him, knowing that if he stayed there much longer then he would lose the courage to go to her completely.

* * *

It was not hard to figure out which tent was hers, it was the biggest and neatest looking after all, placed right in the centre of the camp where the company leader was expected to be. Podrick supposed it was just his luck that he would court a girl who made it so hard to be with her, for it had taken some serious sneaking from himself to reach the place without being spotted. There were men everywhere, albeit most were drunk or asleep, but still, the camp was littered with soldiers enjoying the slightly warmer weather, and any one of them could recognise him and notice him sneaking into the tent of their lady. Somehow, by some luck or by fate, Podrick had managed it, and he found himself outside of her tent, desperately searching for a way in before someone could come along and destroy his good fortune.

Eventually he saw it though, a fold in the tent that had not been properly tied, almost as if someone had purposely left it to hang unsecure. _Sansa_ , surely it had been her. Pod smirked at her boldness, imagining her trying to unravel the seams of the cloth, the thought of him paying her a visit driving her on. With a grace he did not realise he had in him, Podrick slipped through the gap and was instantly met with a wall of hot air from inside the tent. 

The air was coming from the middle of the tent where a fire pit warming up the space and protecting them from the harsh air outside. The tent itself was much more luxurious than his own, for one she had a bed, one that was raised off of the floor and undeniably made of feathers – all he had was the floor and a bedroll. Sansa even had her own desk, one that had candles on as well as all the materials she would need for reading and writing. The grandeur of the tent amazed him and he marvelled over how it had been transported, how it had been brought to the middle of nowhere and look like it belonged to a lady. There were even decorations, rugs, an old worn tapestry hung across one of the walls, and even a small water basin ready for whenever the lady felt she needed to clean herself. The space was undeniably hers, irrefutably belonging to a lady, and Podrick felt out of place standing there looking as scruffy as he did without her being there.

Anxiously, Podrick began to wait, choosing to lean against the post in the middle of the tent, warming himself by the fire, twiddling his thumbs and watching the doorway for any sign of her. When she had summoned him to her tent, she had not given any indication of how long she would be and Podrick was just coming to terms with the fact he could be waiting there hours before the door to the tent finally peeled open and the Lady of Winterfell effortlessly stepped in. She threw him a grin, a grin that spread across her entire face and made her look happier than he had seen her for weeks. Within an instant she had closed the distance and thrown her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close and relishing in the feeling of finally having her lover back in her arms. 

Podrick smiled into her shoulder, enjoying her touch, savouring the contact as if it would be their last. She smelled nice, just like he had remembered, and she fit in his arms so perfectly as if she had never left them. He didn’t realise how much he had missed her, how much he had missed simply hugging her and holding her near, how their heartbeats would begin to match each other’s as they listened to the sound of the other breathing. It was wonderful, it made him feel careless, and he didn’t ever want it to stop.

“Gods, I missed you.” He groaned into her shoulder, his arms around her waist pulling her even closer to him.

“You’ve seen me everyday.” Podrick knew she was rolling her eyes at his romantic nature yet he did not care, it was only a rouse, she always enjoyed his tender side despite her protests.

“You know what I mean.”

Podrick only just managed to get his words out before her lips were on his, shutting him up and stopping any other words he might have had from reaching his mouth. Instantly the kiss was needy, a kiss that he knew straight away her intentions for him, and one he returned energetically, his hands coming to rest on her hips. Her fingers found their way into his hair, playing with the ends at the back of his neck and pressuring him to come closer, to kiss her harder. All his questions regarding why she had summoned him there was answered in that one kiss and Podrick was certainly not unhappy with the outcome.

He knew what she wanted, he knew what she was after for it was a dance they had done countless times before by this point. His body could read hers in a way his mind never could, it knew instinctively what she wanted, what he wanted, and he knew exactly how to move in order to achieve it – it had become that easy. Long gone was the shy man who was nervous about the thought of sleeping with a lady and in his place stood one who knew her well, knew exactly what she liked and how to please her, with not a nervous thought in his mind. They just worked, they understood each other perfectly and that didn’t for one moment make it any less thrilling.

Her hands moved down from his hair to pull at the latch of his heavy cloak, pushing the article off his shoulders with an ease that came with being a northerner used to the wearing one. Quickly his own hands flew up to return the favour, his fingers not as precise as hers as it took him a moment to undo the tie, Sansa chuckled against his lips at his clumsiness. When they were both free of the thick clothing, the two reattached themselves to each other, their bodies flush against each other in a way their cloaks would not allow. It was exhilarating, the heat and want after weeks of not having contact, every kiss felt heightened, every touch felt hot – if they had stayed away for much longer Podrick was certain he would not have been able to cope.

It didn’t take long for the kiss to deepen, for tongues to begin to battle, for lips to become loose, it was a want, a primal want for one another that had been denied for so long and had encouraged them to act much faster than they would usually. All of Podrick’s fuss over his hair had been in vain as within moments of being with her his hair stuck out at all angles, denoting where her fingers had been, where she had pulled. Sansa loved his hair, he had learned that about her very early on and he loved the feeling of her fingers in it, her nails against his scalp, her hands lost in his roots. It was one of the reasons he had decided to let it grow, a ridiculous but needy reason that he would not admit to anyone, yet it was true and Podrick loved to feel it. The act showed him how much she needed him, how much she wanted to kiss him, and he wanted to feel it for the rest of his life.

They began moving towards the bed instinctively, neither of them consciously edging there yet they both felt themselves being pulled by some indescribable force that they had little control over. Sansa’s fingers dropped to the ties on the back of his jerkin, expertly untying the buckles down his back as if she had done them many times before – and she had. After she had been successful with just a few, Podrick pulled the clothing up over his head, detaching their lips for the briefest of moments only for them to re-join more frantic than before. He thanked his past self for choosing to forgo his mail that day, deciding that the heavy chain was growing uncomfortable while riding and he very much doubted he would be needing it to fight. In its absence Sansa’s hands had gone straight to his chest, twisting his shirt into her fists as she pulled him even closer than before, her hands felt hot through the thin material of his undershirt.

When her legs finally collided with the side of the bed, she fell backwards only to be steadied by Pod’s hands as he helped her down, pushing her further onto the bed so only her feet were over the end. Pulling off his boots with his heels and prompting her to do the same with hers, Pod knelt on the bed, his hands framing her face as he hovered over her, scared to place his weight on her. The position was a rare one for them, for he was not usually the one to be on top of her and truthfully Podrick was not sure what to do, what she was comfortable with. Once her boots had been kicked off, Sansa’s eyes flickered to meet his for just a moment before her hands returned to his hair and pulled his lips down to hers, successfully quelling any worries he had. Before long, and once he had determined she was comfortable with it, Pod lowered himself onto her, careful to put as much weight as he could onto his hands without it being too overwhelming for his wrists and the feeling of her below him, needy and wanting was enough to stop his thoughts entirely. His mind was stripped back to just his wants and needs, a man filled with passion, and any stability he had left was swiftly removed; all he knew was her, her touch and her kisses, and nothing else mattered.

Soon, any weight he had held in his hands was removed and his hands were upon her, searching her body and pulling at the heavy dress that separated their bodies. Somehow, Pod was not sure when, she had pulled his shirt from his waistband, transitioned her hands from his hair and under his hem, her hands cold against his skin yet left a trail of fire wherever they touched. Her hands were everything and they were everywhere, and with each stoke of her fingers it brought them both closer to the inevitable. The feeling of her skin against his, her fingers prying in places that he only allowed her to touch drove him to insanity, and he wanted nothing more than to let her know just how she was making him feel, to return the favour.

His hands made it to her legs, feeling the softness of her flesh against his rough palms made it hard for him to concentrate as his lips moved to her neck, not caring if he left any marks in his wake. He needed her, he had wanted her so badly the entire time they had been on the road, in that moment he could understand nothing else but her, he could not act rationally, nor did he care. One of her hands strayed to his side, sending a shiver down his spine as she moved it further, her nails dragging along the skin of his back. His kisses grew harder as he made it to her collar bone, enjoying the rare low cut nature of her dress, nipping at her perfect skin there, the porcelain surface quickly turning red.

It was only when Sansa let out a soft moan did Podrick realise how quiet they had been, how somehow despite how vocal they had been in the past the two of them had remained silent, the only sounds filling the room was the slight creak of the bed as they shifted. Maybe it was the thrill of people outside which kept them quiet, or maybe it was the lack of contact causing them to pay the other so much attention they had somehow stayed silent, yet whatever it had been, the sound of Sansa moaning beneath him for the first time was enough to spur him to move on. 

His hands were off of her legs in an instant as they pushed their way underneath her body, his fingers desperately searching blind for the intricate ties of her dress. Her style of dress was something he felt he would always find annoying, the hard knots, the complicated fastenings – it was always an unnecessary challenge and every time he attempted it Podrick cursed the gods that she could not pick something simpler, something that came apart with one pull. His hands roamed her back, urgently seeking some kind of lace or bond that held her dress together, but he could find nothing, and he could sense from her shuffling under him that she was growing impatient.

“Forget it.” Sansa commanded, tugging on his hair once more to return his lips to hers which he agreed to readily.

Her kisses were more aggressive now, her lips hard against his as she pushed into him with all her might, any thought they might of had of being slow leaving their minds immediately. Podrick wriggled his palms out from underneath her and briefly made their way to her face, pushing away all loose ends of her hair from her forehead. With reluctance he broke the kiss, rising up slightly to get a good look at her peaceful face. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips were red, and Podrick wanted to stay looking at her forever, for she was the most beautiful woman in the world. However, Sansa clearly had other ideas as her eyes did not meet his, instead they were watching her hands as they attacked his breeches, undoing the laces there and prompting him to move once more. 

His hands returned to her legs, making his way up her thighs to the top of her underclothes, it being the only barrier between himself and what lay between her legs. The laces of his breeches were undone when her lips returned to his, her hands pushing his waistband down to his hips, past his-

“My lady, oh- _oh_.” 

He knew that voice a mile away, he had listened to it for years, there was no mistaking who it was.

Podrick had never moved so quickly. In a matter of mere seconds, he was up from the bed, his face reddening to a shade darker than ever before. He made quick work of the laces of his breeches as he fastened them up, stuffing his shirt into them as it was proper to do. He felt his knight’s eyes upon him yet he could not look at her, instead he chose to watch Sansa as she pushed herself up to a seated position, rearranging her skirts to fall as they should. Her hair was a mess, and so was her neck, yet despite the obvious signs in her appearance indicating what they had been up to, she had the air of a lady, a grace she always had in every situation. She was handling the situation much better than the heavily agitated Podrick.

“Lady Brienne – how can I help you?” Sansa spoke with an ease as if nothing had happened, the only indication that she had been flustered was her heavy breathing.

Sansa faced the woman head on, not wishing to hide or be embarrassed at the encounter. Podrick on the other hand never had felt more embarrassed. He had been avoiding telling Brienne about them for a long time for he knew she would not approve, and to have her find out in a way which would surely be scorched into her memory forever was not how he wished to tell her. Encouraged by Sansa’s stoicism, Podrick made a move to his armour, pulling it over his head in a bid to stop himself from looking so awkward standing rooted to the spot. Swiftly he pulled on his boots followed quickly by his cloak, smoothing down his hair once again that night as he tried his hardest to avoid looking at his knight.

He knew she was uncomfortable, he could tell without even needing to look at her. She was shuffling between her feet, her heels scraping on the rug she was standing on. Upon her face he knew was that look he hated, the one where she was trying her hardest to not seem judgmental, yet he knew deep down she was being, and she was judging them hard. Podrick swallowed thinking about the scolding he would get as soon as they left the tent, it would probably last the rest of the night.

It wasn’t that Brienne would be against them being together, in fact he very much doubted that she would even attempt to stop them, but he knew what Brienne was made of for it was the same sense of honour and propriety that made him. They were creatures of habit, they followed tradition and followed what was right, and their relationship was the furthest thing from that. Brienne would scold him for not being cautious, for not caring about tradition or Sansa’s position despite him thinking deeply about all of that and then some. She didn’t realise what they had discussed, what they had been through, and Brienne would undoubtedly take all her shock out on him. Moreover, he knew Brienne cared, that she would be disappointed in him; many times she had told him she was not his mother, but they both knew that was not true, in fact she was far better than the mother he once knew, and that was precisely what was going to make her reprimanding hurt. 

He heard Brienne clear her throat behind him, finally deciding it was time to speak. “A rider has been spotted in the night, a young girl, on her own-“

 “Arya.” Sansa was up from the bed in a flash, sending him a bright grin as she moved.

He didn’t get chance to speak before he felt a hand against his back, guiding him out of the tent and forcing his feet to move when they did not want to. He did not dare look back at Sansa, instead he focused on the floor, watching his feet as they strode over her soft rugs. He heard Brienne say her goodbye as he was pushed out into the cold air, the hand on his back beginning to grip onto his cloak and drag him along beside her.

“You have some explaining to do.” Brienne whispered to him causing a chill to run down his entire body.

He didn’t think he was as scared as he was in that moment when he had been facing the gallows – no, this was much worse than facing his death. Podrick gulped as he readied himself to face the inevitable, to face what he had been avoiding for so long, and he hoped to the gods that he would make it through more or less unscathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry about Pod - Brienne won't go too hard on him ;) 
> 
> I don't really think she would be that angry about the two of them getting together, I put her reaction down to her shock (especially at finding them like that) and her worry for them both. 'If you don't snap at me I wont learn' and all - I think that's just her love language, she shows people she cares by snapping at them and teaching them to do better. Her finding out is very much a long time coming and it was always planned by me that she would just walk in on them, the blushing alone was just such a funny image.
> 
> I have no plans to include the scolding in this story for I think it is best left up to your imagination what would go down (in my head it involves Ser Jaime trying to defuse the situation) however, I have been thinking about doing some one-shots as an add on to this story once this has finished and it very much may be included in that. I don't want to commit and say that will happen, but just something to keep in mind if you have any burning scenes you wish to see that I don't include.
> 
> Also, yay Arya.


	17. Miles from Alone

* * *

**SANSA**

* * *

Having Arya back in her company had been a welcome change to Sansa, the lady was so relieved to have her sister back, so much so that Arya’s perpetual bad mood had failed to lower Sansa’s content. Her sister’s return had given her someone to talk to who wasn’t Lord Royce or Bran (who, as much as it pained Sansa to admit, never installed her with much happiness) and Arya’s constant bickering and sulking had been refreshing. Arya had good reason to sulk, their brother (who wasn’t actually their brother) was imprisoned and facing trial for a murder he has already admitted to, she had seen first hand the decimation of the capital, and then to complete it, Arya had learned that a certain Baratheon had decided to make the journey to King’s Landing and she had chosen to avoid the man at all cost. 

It was evident from the moment she arrived into camp and saw him that Arya had been deeply effected by his presence, so much so that her sister had spent every moment by her side, in a way that she had never wanted to before. They loved each other deeply, and would support the other to no end, but the two were polar opposites, Sansa's proper to Arya’s brashness, and the two were never destined to be the best of friends so Arya suddenly becoming attached to her hip had been a very recent development for the two of them.  Sansa had given her a grace period, her patience towards her attitude high yet the period was quickly dying, and Sansa’s teasing comments had turned more pointed, and Arya’s snappy comebacks had lost their smirk. Still, the two continued to stay together, and despite their increasing annoyance at the other, Arya joined her everyday on the ride down the road, the two choosing to go on horseback instead of the traditional carriage.

Arya had joined them by the Twins but they had since past the Neck, on route to pick up her little cousin from the Eyrie, and yet despite their impressive progress, Sansa couldn’t help but feel at her wits end. Once she was outside of the North, Sansa found herself feeling less interested in her surroundings and had taken to entertaining herself to past the time. Sometimes she would converse with her siblings, sometimes she would sew on the carriage, but mostly Sansa let her mind wonder.  She thought about Podrick, about their love and what their children would look like. She thought of her family, of little Rickon and how much of life he saw before he had been killed. Mainly she thought of Arya, about how she never seemed to be happy and how she could change that, about how as much as she loved her she did not feel like living in close quarters with her for the rest of her life. Sansa smirked to herself as she got a mischievous idea, her eyes flying over to her sister riding besides her, a frown drawn upon her face as she concentrated on the path ahead.

“I saw him by Bran’s carriage earlier, you know I wouldn’t mind if you le-“

“Fuck off.” Arya shot down her sister’s questions with a scowl, her head whipping around to see if anyone had been listening but there was no one close.

Her men knew to leave them space, the only people who ever came close to them on the ride were Ser Brienne and Lord Royce, both of them choosing to speak briefly and left way before they had overstayed their welcome. Overall, the two had been left to their own company, their men far from overhearing any conversation or argument the two may have, and this freedom had left room for pointed conversations to happen, and the long ride had allowed many of unspoken words to come to surface. They had spoken of the past, of Sansa’s marriages and Arya’s travels, they had spoken candidly about Jon and the Dragon Queen, about the mess the two of them had made indirectly through their actions and how they would reconcile them. But after one full day of riding, the two had come into the second with nothing else to talk about, at least nothing that both of them would feel comfortable speaking about.

“I don’t see why you don’t just go an speak with him, I’m sure he’s dying to talk to you?” Sansa bit back, not wishing to back down from attempting to gather information about her sister’s thoughts.

Gendry. Sansa has been told a lot about the man with the broad shoulders, from Arya, from Podrick, each of them had spoken highly of the man despite everything that had happened, and Sansa was keen to find out more about him. She knew from Podrick that Gendry was desperate to speak with Arya again, to apologise for his misjudgement of the situation but she could not admit that to her sister, for her sister would only bring her own questions as to why she knew that and that would only lead to something she did not feel like admitting to Arya just yet.

“I don’t care what he feels, I don’t want to speak with him.” Arya sighed, glaring over at her and begging her to stop her interrogations.

Sansa had tried before to get her to talk, the conversation they had the morning she had left had been brief and left much uncovered, and Sansa wished for nothing more than to have some much needed light relief with the gossip of her sister’s love life to occupy their long journey. Her sister, on the other hand, was not eager to reveal much and Sansa’s onslaught of questions about their future had gone unanswered. In a way, Sansa was trying to live vicariously through her sister, appreciating her easy marriage options and even pushing Arya to accept his proposal for there was still time. It was a good match, one that their father would be proud of, one that would be fitting of her status, yet Sansa knew not to push too hard. It was Arya’s choice to make, and Sansa’s desire to see her sister happy was far outweighed by her wishing to see her sister living a life she chose.

It was the greatest thing that had come out of the horrible world they had been exposed to, they had a choice now, they had power to choose their own paths. Even when her father was still alive, Sansa had not experienced that freedom, she was always her father’s daughter to give away, no matter how noble and kind he was, that was a fact. That was a game they all played, every noble family Westeros, everyone was a piece, willing in every way to further their family’s fortunes and no matter how loving her family had been there was no denying that Sansa’s duty had been to marry a lord, a prince as it had turned out, and she had been happy to go along with it. She knew now how naïve she had been, how silly they had all been, now nothing seemed important anymore, things had changed and now Sansa was completely free, in a way she had never been before and Sansa didn’t for one second want to pressure Arya into doing something. Still, that did not stop Sansa from teasing, she was her sister after all, it was her duty to irritate her to the best of her abilities.

“ _And_ I don’t see what you’re afraid of.” Sansa rolled her eyes, wishing Arya to drop all her false pretences.

Arya was scared. Sansa knew her well enough to see that. She was scared of what to say, she was scared of breaking his heart all over again, she was scared of getting her own heart broken. Previously, Arya had told her she had rejected his proposal because she would never be a lady, and Sansa believed it, however it was a different matter regarding why she had rejected _him_ , why she had run away so suddenly. Pod had mentioned that Gendry was willing to drop his title if it meant he could be with her, and Sansa didn’t for one moment think the man had given her a sister an ultimatum when it came to being with him. Instead, Arya had rejected him at the earliest opportunity before she had even allowed him to talk, to explain what he was feeling and what he was thinking about, and she had done so because she was scared.

“I am not. I killed the Night King, I’m not scared of anything.” Arya spoke with confidence, but Sansa saw straight through it.

“Sure.” Sansa dragged out her words sarcastically, knowing very well that it would irritate her sister greatly. “If you are not afraid then go speak with him, I dare you.”

Arya’s eyes grew furious and for a moment she was unable to speak although she very clearly was trying to. Sansa’s request had clearly stumped her, and Arya could see no logically argument as to why she couldn’t go over and talk to him. Anxious that she was dwelling too long on her dare, Arya finally opened her mouth to speak.

“Oh, go away!”

Sansa let out a uncharacteristic giggle at her sister’s aggravation, her eyes lighting up over how easy it had been to annoy her sibling. She felt like a younger girl again, the one who had been lost years ago who would argue with Arya over the most trivial of subjects. At the time she had hated her, not truly hated her, but hated her in a way an elder sibling hated the younger, yet now Sansa loved bickering with her, it was a sense of normality she no longer took for granted. 

“You are scared, Arya. Although I’m not sure what you’re scared of.” Sansa continued, watching her sister squirm under her words.

“I’m not listening to you!” Arya sang, her face pulled into a false smile that anyone could see through.

“I agree you shouldn’t marry him if you don’t want to, but there is nothing wrong with courting the man. No one would bat an eyelid if you lived with him in sin either, you can get away with it because you’d just slice them open if they say otherwise.”

“Gods! Sansa you’ve changed your tune – have a confession of your own you’d like to admit? Someone who got you from acting like such a lady all the time.” Arya shot back at her with little thought of what she was saying, unaware of how truthful her words were.

With all the decorum that she could muster, Sansa focused on not allowing the shock of her words to show, choosing instead to come across as calm as possible, hoping that Arya would not catch on to her sudden breathlessness.

“Of course not, I just want you to be happy – that’s all. I’m only stating the facts.” Sansa tried to breathe deeply through her words, her tone unwavering.

Her disguise seemingly worked on her sister as Arya’s frown had quickly reappeared upon her face. “I’m happy with not talking to him.”

“Arya! You can’t be like this.” A nerve had been struck within Sansa at the closeness of her words, and Sansa’s patience was quickly beginning to dwindle. “Just go talk to him, hear what he has to say and never speak to him again if you want. Trust me, you need to at least have some sort of closure from this.”

Arya snickered at Sansa’s aggravated manner, choosing not to respond and putting an end to the conversation about Gendry. While Sansa started the conversation as a means to tease her sister, there was no doubt in her mind that she needed to sort out the situation if Arya would not do so herself. Perhaps she would enlist Podrick’s help, forcing the two to meet and confront their feelings, and hopefully the outcome would be good – at the very least there would be a resolution. There was something about Gendry and what she had heard about him that made Sansa believe he was meant to be in their lives, and even if Arya did not wish to admit it, Sansa was certainly not going to let him escape them easily. 

The two fell into a silence on the road, neither wishing to speak and risk breaking the quiet truce between them, Arya kept her eyes forward and her concentration on anything other than her sister and Sansa found herself doing the very same. She was lucky the conversation had ended when it did as on her right up ahead she caught sight of the familiar shoulders and dark hair of a man she loved dearly. He was dismounted, along with Ser Jaime and Brienne, and the three were pondering over a shoe on Jaime’s horse. Sansa could not pretend to know anything about the shoeing of horses so there was little point in stopping to force a conversation just to be in the same vicinity of him, instead all she could do was ride past, her eyes lingering on the man’s back. For a slight moment, Podrick turned to look at her and a current flew between them like it always did, a sudden burst of energy that only came with making contact with someone you loved. 

“What was that?” Arya whispered to her, drawing Sansa’s attention back to her.

Her sister was looking at her as if she had told her something unbelievable, as if she had been acting unlike herself. Sansa couldn’t help the blush that rose to her cheeks at Arya’s sudden interest in her. Deep down, Sansa knew what Arya had seen, she was always very observant, there was no way she would have missed it yet Sansa could not admit it to herself, instead she played the fool. 

“Looks like Ser Jaime’s horse has-“

“No. That look!” Arya cut her off, a daring grin coming across her face as if she had just discovered one of life’s greatest pleasures.

“What look?” Sansa’s eyes widened in shock, trying her hardest to feign that she had no idea what she was talking about. 

Arya dropped into silence, her eyes boring into her trying to extract Sansa’s secrets. For a fleeting instant Sansa felt she may have gotten away with it, for Arya’s expression had not changed but then, almost as if the Gods had noticed her relief, her sister’s face lit up, her eyes brightening for the first time since she had joined them with a mischievous glint. 

“Seven Hells! You fancy Podrick Payne!”

Suddenly, and probably for the first time, Sansa Stark found herself utterly intimidated by her sister. It had only taken her once glance to realise everything, to figure out the truth and there was nothing Sansa could do to stop her from knowing. Still, she knew she had to try.

“Arya, what are you talking about?” Sansa tried her hardest to keep a level tone but she knew it was in vain.

“It’s true!” Arya chuckled to herself. “When I heard it in King’s Landing I-“

“What?” Sansa interrupted, all masquerades dropping in alarm at what her sister had just said.

“Honestly Sansa, you really do need to be more careful. Some men were talking about it after the battle, I overheard them talking about the two of you. I thought it was slander at first – there was no way that _Lady_ _Sansa_ would court a squire, you wouldn’t dare. Guess I was mistaken.” Her sister was smirking, infuriating Sansa to no end.

For so long Sansa had been traditional, she had acted accordingly and regrettably she loved nothing more as a child to hold that over Arya, to make herself feel superior with her better manners and understanding of customs. Sansa was a lady, even with everything she had been through she still acted with dignity, she was polite and held herself just as her mother had taught her. Yet now, all that harassment of Arya over manners had come back to bit her, and Sansa wanted nothing more than to wipe the irritatingly cocky grin from her sister’s face.

“What were they saying?” Sansa sighed reluctantly, her hands tightening their grip on the reigns of her horse.

While she wished to end the conversation – much like Arya had done earlier, there was a curiosity that was stopping her, a need to find out just what had been said and how they had said it. If she was going to get Pod to be accepted by the Northern men, she needed to know what they thought, of what they knew about them, whether they knew the truth or knew lies. It was an uphill battle that she would need to face, one that would have to be expertly done and required Podrick to step up, more so than he had ever done before. He would need to befriend them, to gain their support, and she needed to create the circumstances to make that as easy as possible. As much as she hated the idea of her sister knowing the truth, Sansa realised that she would have to make that sacrifice to get what she needed.

“So, it’s true then?” Arya continued to poke, disregarding the question. “You like Podrick Payne? I suppose I have heard he was good in bed but I can’t remember where I heard that – although I don’t suppose you would know that, would you? Or would you? Sansa – what exactly has happened?”

Sansa swallowed as she listened to Arya’s barrage of questions – it was exactly what she had been dreading. “Tell me what you’ve heard and I’ll tell you if it’s true.”

“Well, I –“

Sansa cut her off before she started. “On the condition that you promise me that you will speak with him. _Properly_.”

“If I can ask questions then you’ve got yourself a deal.” Arya did not miss a beat in replying, clearly as eager to find out the gossip as she had been about her sister and the Baratheon. 

Sansa gave it a moment’s thought. “One question.”

“Three.”

“Deal.” Sansa nodded, urging Arya to continue.

“Well, I was walking through the camps after Jon had been arrested. No one seemed to know about it yet, it was weird, like some kind of nightmare where no one cared. Anyway, I heard your name being mentioned so of course I listened, thinking I would find out some plan but gods did I hear something I was not expecting.” Arya smirked once more at her sister. “They said you had taken a lover, they didn’t mention his name but they mentioned he was a squire for the ‘Big Lady’ and I put two and two together. Honestly, I didn’t believe it at all, I thought it was slander.”

“Arya just tell me what they said!” Sansa cut off her ramblings, throwing her sister a sharp look that pierced her just like a sword.

“ _Fine!_ ” Arya groaned. “They said that you were together, secretly married one of them thought although no one believed that, that you kissed at the Battle of Winterfell but everyone knew you were doing much more than that – I’m sure you would not want to hear their choice of words – and probably had been for some time. One said that he was only with you for the status, and then the other mentioned that you were probably only with him for – _hmm_ , his member, apparently he’s known throughout the kingdom for being good at bedsport - I've heard it before too so it probably is.”

Sansa’s cheeks flushed redder than ever, her sister’s candid words creating a wave of embarrassment deeper than she had ever thought it was possible to feel. She knew her sister was not a virgin, but there was something so awkward about talking to her about it, about hearing certain words come out of her mouth even when she was trying to be as polite as possible, that made Sansa speechless. Anxiously, Sansa looked to her sister, recognising the same look of embarrassment upon Arya’s face as the two of them noted that they had grown up, that now their conversations were much different. Seeing her sister as embarrassed as she was struck up something in Sansa that she rarely felt in her adulthood – it was a need to protect her sister, a will to make everything better if she could, and with that feeling Sansa took a deep breath and drew up the confidence to speak.

“You can tell me it like it is Arya, I’ve surely heard much worse.” She’d done much worse also although Sansa did not feel like thinking about that while talking to her sister.

Taking up the invitation to speak freely, Arya sent her a glance that could only be described as ‘I warned you’. “They say you loved his magic cock, that you came to his bedroom each night and let him take you like a common whore.”

Despite her will to hear it, there was nothing that would have prepared Sansa to hear those words coming out of her sister’s mouth. In her mind she was still the wild girl from Winterfell, and to hear her speak such filth (and to know what it means) was not something she was ready to hear; they were not children anymore.

“Oh.” Was all Sansa could muster.

“You did ask.” Arya grinned at her sister’s awkwardness.

The men’s talk, despite their vulgarity, was quite accurate, she had been to his room multiple time and she had engaged in unladylike activities there. On one hand, Sansa was grateful that there was no obscene rumour about her that was not true, at least they had figured out things correctly although they were certainly not married (where they got that from Sansa would never know). Yet on the other hand, Sansa felt the men were unimpressed by her actions, repulsed that she would engage in such actions with a squire. The lady felt an angry rose within her that she usually managed to suppress, but she had to remind herself that even with their uncouth choice of words, the men did not make up the rumours, she had been the cause – she could not fault them for seeing what she had shown to them. Then there was a matter of whether or not they actually believed them.

Yet, it was not the men looking at her in that moment with a questioning expression, instead it was her sister and Sansa was not sure what to admit to her. If she told her about everything, about how she had acted improperly, Arya would be ecstatic and Sansa would never be able to live it down. She had always been the appropriate one, the one that followed the rules, and to admit to her sister that she had broken every expectation as to how she should act would change their dynamic for good. Still, Sansa did not feel like she could lie to her sister, likewise she had a suspicion that regardless of what she said, Arya would quickly find out the truth. Therefore, it made sense to Sansa to tell her and be over with it, yet that was easier said than done for Sansa did not know how to say it.

“Well, um, I’m not married to him.” Sansa gulped, her eyes not meeting Arya’s. 

Her sister’s eyes grew wide as she realised what her sister was admitting. “Wait, so the other stuff is true?”

Anxiously, Sansa looked around to make sure no one was close enough to overhear as she prepared herself for the inevitable. There was no one there, no one around them close enough to hear, and that meant Sansa held no excuses. With a sigh, Sansa looked over at her bemused sister, her expression much more serious and meeker than Arya’s. She understood her sister’s excitement, it had been the same as when she had found out about her sister’s love interest, but there was still a worry about her situation that hindered Sansa from feeling the same.

“Well, not that extreme, no.” For the first time in a long time Sansa allowed her voice to sound frail. “We are together though, as much as we could be given the circumstances.”

It felt a relief to tell her sister, to tell anyone anything. In her immediate circle, she had only spoken to Lord Royce about Podrick, and even then the talk had been necessary and political, never before had she had the opportunity to just discuss him with no restrictions. Sansa did not realise it until she had said it how much she needed to tell someone, needed that confidant to spill everything to. There was no possibility that Sansa would tell her everything, some details and facts she wished to leave for herself, but it was a liberation to be able to tell her sister her thoughts and knowing that she could do so in the future.

Arya had the widest grin on her face that Sansa had ever seen. Her words had broken whatever thoughts she had been sulking over and in their place was an elated Arya who looked like she had not a care in the world. Upon seeing her reaction, Sansa found herself beginning to relax, preparing herself for the onslaught of teasing that would no doubt come. It would get annoying, Sansa was sure of that, but it felt nice to be young and carefree, to be those two sisters who were left behind in Winterfell all those years ago.

“Gods Sansa, I’ve been waiting for this day to come for a very long time. Sansa Stark – _Lady Sansa_ – doing gods know what with a squire! Ha!” Arya’s voice was loud, and her laugh long.

“Keep your voice down!” Sansa cautioned, looking around once again to see if Arya’s sudden outburst had attracted any attention.

When she looked back to her sister, Sansa saw that her grin had disappeared, and in its place was a studious look, her eyes probing Sansa for any information. If Sansa knew her sister well, she presumed that Arya had only just realised that whatever was happening between Sansa and the squire was serious, that it was more than just sleeping around. Arya stayed silent for a while, just watching her sister for any indication about the nature of her feelings. Sansa knew she had a million questions, she was bound to, but Sansa had no clue as to why she was staying so silent.

“So, are you going to marry him?” Arya asked quietly, understanding without needing to be told the reality of the situation – her sister was in love, there was no denying it.

“I’m working on it, it’s not easy. The lords will not be pleased, I’m going to try and get them to like him before we make any announcement.” Sansa told her the truth, not seeing any point in withholding the truth from her sister.

Sansa was not embarrassed by the thought of marrying a squire, in fact she had even proposed to him, nor was she embarrassed by her sister knowing that. She loved him, she loved him in a way she never expected herself to feel, never knew she would experience it, there was no shame in it and her sister deserved to know that. Besides, it would be a relief to have someone else on her side, someone else to work the problem with her. While Podrick and Lord Royce were helpful and had good advice, there was no one else who understood her problems better than someone who knew her life completely, knew her status and what was expected of her – only a Stark could understand that fully.

“Well I say marry him and let them sort out their own problems.” Arya sniggered but they both knew she didn’t really mean it, it was just what Arya would say, a rebellion even when she knew she couldn’t.

“Arya.” Sansa warned, not in any mood for her radical ideas. 

Her sister sighed reluctantly knowing very well the reality of the situation. “I know, I get it. Sometimes I wish it was that easy though.”

They were Stark sisters, their whole lives they had presumed they would be married off and knew what was expected of them. Even in this new world, the one where Sansa was her own master and Arya could kill any man she wished, that expectation was hard to shake, it was engrained into them, they were still noble-born even with everything that had happened.

“You know I actually asked him to marry me and he refused.” Sansa giggled to herself, hearing the slight gasp from besides her. “I never thought I’d feel like that about anyone, let alone someone whose been under my nose for years. All that time I never noticed him and now look at us…”

If someone had told Sansa while she was in King’s Landing who she was trying to marry she would have surely laughed. That Podrick Payne, the bumbling tongue-tied fool who would blush profoundly at any given moment would end up capturing her heart, and she would break all her morals to be with him. It was unbelievable really, she thought she had been destined to be a queen and she had wished for nothing else, now however, she wanted nothing else but a squire’s heart and happiness for her people. Sansa found herself smiling sweetly to herself over how unexpected the world had become, how different things had turned out.

“I may need to have a word with him then, warn him to never cross my sister or feel my blade.” Arya beamed at her sister’s happiness, her joke held a truth to it however and Sansa knew she meant to speak with the man. 

“While you are at it make sure to talk to Gendry too – you did promise.” Sansa smirked at her sister, not yet forgetting what had started the conversation in the first place.

Arya’s smile fell from her face as she grunted in response, dismissing the idea yet they both knew she would go through with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much Podrick x Sansa in this one but I felt this was a much needed conversation that needs to be seen.
> 
> If you may not have noticed already, from here on out the story is diverting from what happened (Jaime is still there for one) and the same may be said for Arya and Gendry...


	18. Miles from Sadness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Podrick and Sansa have a much needed conversation.

* * *

**PODRICK**

* * *

The instant Gendry told him that Sansa was to be Queen in the North his heart sunk. It was a guilt, a selfish irrational feeling that everything had changed and not for the better. Podrick was supposed to be happy for her, she had achieved the one thing she had ever truly wanted and all Podrick felt was worry; he was supposed to be with her, her partner, and her recent good fortune had made him anything but supportive. This would change everything, change them. It was one thing having a not-so-secretive relationship with the Lady of Winterfell, it was a completely different matter having a relationship with a queen. Would she even want to continue it? Would she put an end to it? There were a thousand questions circling his mind and not any sign of an answer.

In front of him, in a warm parlour in the once mighty Red Keep, Gendry was continuing to speak, a wide grin on his face yet Podrick did not hear a single word. As soon as the court had adjourned, Gendry had found him, instantly wanting to relay all the information he could about what happened. Podrick, of course, had not been allowed to the meeting yet seemingly everyone else in the castle had an invite, leaving Podrick alone wandering the halls lost in thought of the past. The wing once housed the Tyrells, and was now occupied by a number of lords and ladies who had made the journey down to King’s Landing for the trial of Jon Snow. The Tyrells were all dead, every one of them, and Podrick had a tendency to shiver whenever he entered the building, his mind reminiscing over Margaery’s smile and her eyes, perpetually teasing and warm. But Margaery was long dead, along with many of the occupants of King’s Landing, now just a shell of a city – everywhere he stood Podrick felt spooked, it didn’t feel right.

Jon Snow had been pardoned and sent to the Night’s Watch. Pod was unsure why that punishment had been set for there was no longer a need for a watch yet he was certain there was a point for it. Tyrion had likewise been pardon, and most shockingly, Bran had become king. Gendry had agreed upon it, they all had, but the Baratheon did not seem to hold any strong feelings over the choice other than he was happy it wasn’t him. Podrick was unconvinced it was the right choice, Bran, or at least what he had heard from Sansa about Bran, was a shadow of his former self, out of his own body yet completely grounded at the same time. It would be a risk having him as king, yet Podrick knew he had no right to judge, he was only a squire after all, all of those lords and ladies had voted and agreed. Then, Gendry had told him Sansa had asked for independence, and Bran had agreed - she would be queen, the queen she rightly should be, and it had sent Podrick’s head spinning. 

He stared at Gendry’s lips, watching them move yet not understanding them, he couldn’t think straight, he could not form any thoughts at all. His mind was a whirlwind, filling with doubt, filling with questions, and nothing he could do to quell them, to somehow comprehend what he was thinking. He caught Gendry mention Arya, and the smile that radiated from his face when he mentioned her name but as much as he would wish to, Podrick did not share his friend’s happiness, nor could he even show it. All he could picture was Sansa, a crown on that perfect, smart head of hers, forever too above his station for him.

“Podrick?” Gendry’s hand against his shoulder finally drew him out of his trance, forcing his eyes to focus on the face of the man in front of him. 

Gendry’s eyebrows were furrowed in worry, and there was a certain air of concern and vulnerability painted on his face that Podrick had never seen before. Gendry was the epitome of strong, even when he was down about life he still appeared unphased, yet now he was changed, like finally he could feel again. “You alright? You look a little grey?”

“Um – I’m fine, what was that about Arya?” Podrick somehow managed to string together a sentence, shrugging Gendry’s hand off of his shoulder completely.

In a flash, Gendry’s joy had returned, and his bright, confident smile made another appearance upon his face. “Arya wants to meet with me tonight, I dunno what it’s about but I need your help, mate.”

Podrick allowed himself to smile, not truly feeling it but he knew Gendry needed to see it. It was clear that the man had no idea the impact of the news he had told him, that Gendry had not even considered how his words would have affected him yet Podrick did not blame him. After weeks of being close to the younger Stark girl and her ignoring his presence, she had finally spoke to him, and she had made plans to speak with him in the future. It was everything Gendry had wished for, and it was all final coming true – at the very least he would have some closure and that was the one thing he had told Podrick he needed the most. Gendry had a right to be happy, to be overjoyed, and Podrick did not have the heart to dampen his spirits.

“Erm, right, what so you think she will say? What do you want to say?” Podrick mumbled, resolving himself to try and invest in the conversation for that was what friends should do. 

Gendry dropped down into a nearby chair leaving Podrick to stand awkwardly in front of him, he had not seen King Robert much but in that moment Podrick swore Gendry was his double. “That’s why I’m asking you.” Gendry rolled his eyes. “You are the romantic one between us, and whenever I try and be romantic, she runs off.”

With a breath, Podrick let go of all his thoughts, pushing them to the back of his mind to focus on the matter at hand. In truth, Podrick did not know what Gendry should do, he knew next to nothing about Arya and how she functioned, he did not know what she liked or how her thoughts were processed. All he knew about her was she was fierce and scary, someone who could kill anyone in an instant and was not afraid to let people know it – she had killed Littlefinger, she had killed the Night King, she was intimidating. Podrick, on the other hand, functioned on romance, on softness and courtly desires, Sansa liked that, she liked his gentleness and it was what she needed. Frankly, Podrick was sure that the brash Baratheon would had a better chance of coming up with something Arya would like than he would.

The door to the room opened behind him, cutting off any thoughts he had and causing him to turn out of curiosity. His heart sunk once more when he had seen who entered. Flanked by the newly officially pardoned Jaime Lannister and the ever-protective Brienne of Tarth stood the new Queen in the North, her eyes meeting his the instant she saw him. Jaime and Brienne quickly made their way across the room and back to their quarters, bidding the woman goodbye. Jaime, ever the charismatic knight flashed him a quick grin as he past, but Brienne threw him a glare filled with warning, one that made dread flow into his bloodstream. Evidently, from Brienne’s look and Sansa’s fixation upon him, she had something to say to him, something he was fearing would not be good news.

“Good afternoon, milady – or should I say your grace now?” Gendry jumped out of his chair, a smirk upon his face at the sight of the two lovers facing off.

Sansa continued to stare at Podrick yet seemed to pay attention to Gendry’s words. “I’m not a queen yet.”

Her voice was calm and cold, as always, but Podrick knew her too well to tell there was a trouble behind it, a waver that hinted something was occupying her mind. Despite his friend’s unawareness, Podrick and Sansa continued to observe one another, a silent conversation occurring between them. Something had happened to her, Sansa needed to speak with him, and Podrick couldn’t help but think the only reason she had come to speak with him was to end things for good. Surely that was the only option now, for she was going to be a queen and he was still a squire, there was no way that they could survive.

Podrick swallowed as she started to walk towards him, and she appeared like she would walk past him completely before her arm quickly glided down to catch a grip of his owm. It was only brief, and it was gone long before he could register the touch, but Podrick knew what it meant, and with a swift look to his companion, Podrick followed in her footsteps like the diligent follower he was. She was tense, he could see it in the way she walked, her arms folding across her chest in a defensive manner, like she was holding back some wild rage or deep emotion. In the pit of his stomach, Podrick’s doubts came into fruition, and for the first time ever he truly felt frightened by the woman he loved. She was so high above him, so mighty, she had the power to completely break him any instant and Podrick was certain that time had come. 

He followed her into her room, humble for her status but the best the capital had to offer. The guard at her door, a northerner clearly newly appointed gave him a look that could only be described as murderous when he passed him, but Sansa did not seem to care. Unlike him, Sansa had never been bothered about who saw them, not truly. She was cautious, yes, and she knew not to openly promote their relationship, especially not in front of anybody of considerable status, but she had never felt the shame he did whenever someone did see them and she did not seem to care that her guard had seen the two of them enter her room unaccompanied.

His palms were wet on the door handle as he closed it, his nerves at what was to come quickly beginning to show themselves on his body. Podrick was certain he was blushing, and he cursed himself for allowing himself to get so flustered. He needed to take this like a man, he needed to be tough and pretend not to have any emotions, but truthfully he knew if he heard the words he was afraid of then he would surely cry. However, all his qualms were halted the moment he plucked up the courage to turn around and face her once more. 

Sansa was smiling, beaming really, a smile across her face wider than he had ever seen. When he had told her he loved her she had not smiled this wide, when she had been reunited with Jon she had not grinned so much; In front of him stood the girl he had grown to love, the girl that barely made appearances and only did so in privacy, but the girl was more full of life than he had ever seen her before. She had gotten everything she had wanted, she had won the North, her brother was King of the Six Kingdoms, and Jon would not be executed. It was the outcome she had been dreaming of and she had finally got it.

Within a moment she had crossed over to him and thrown her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder as her hands gripped tightly onto his back. The sudden weight of her knocked out all of his remaining doubts, and his arms swiftly made their way to her waist, pulling her in closer and relishing on the feeling of being so close to her. They had been in King’s Landing only a couple of days yet they had not found time to see each other, the last time he had spoken to her, truly spoken to her had been back in Winterfell, and the lack of communicated had left him feeling empty. They had a brief moment together on the road, one that was awkwardly interrupted but it had not been enough to quell his thirst to just been near her, to talk with her like they had done daily in the North. He had missed her, truly missed her and so much had changed in the interim.

Sansa pulled back after a little while, her hands resting on his shoulders, anchoring him in place. Her eyes were hopeful, like the whole world was as it should be, contented with life, and she was teaming with some sort of excitement, a thrill perhaps about what had happened at the court. She squeeze his shoulders with her palms, before placing a fleeting kiss against the corner of his lips, a silent reassurance that everything was alright.

When she opened the gap between them once more, Sansa’s focus shifted to his chest and then back to his face, her lips pulled into a proud line. There was something she wanted to tell him, something that she had found him specifically to say, and from the warmth of her expression it was something she thought to be good.

Podrick did not believe it when he heard the words erupt from her lips.

“Brienne’s going to knight you tonight.” Sansa spoke quickly and breathlessly, causing Podrick’s mind to stop functioning for the second time that day. “She told me I must insist you clean yourself up before hand.”

Sansa looked at him expecting something, anything, but all he could meet her gaze with was a blank stare. He had heard her, he had listened to the words but Pod was having difficulty processing what they meant. He knew what she had said was big, momentous even for the both of them, but by all the power of the seven he could not fathom how to react. 

“W-what?” He stumbled out, needing clarification as to what exactly she had said.

It didn’t take long for the cogs to turn in his brain and quickly he began to decipher what Sansa had said. He felt it before he understood it, the overwhelming sense of relief, the sense that he had done something good and that he was elated because of it. He felt important yet humbled, he felt accomplished, but mostly he felt pride, especially at the sight of Sansa looking at him with such wonder, such love, like he was something special. Then his logic kicked it, and finally he understood what she was trying to tell him. 

A knight. He was going to be a knight. _Ser Podrick Payne_. It was everything he had ever wished for.

“Isn’t it brilliant?” Sansa spoke gently, her hands once more squeezing his shoulders. She knew him, she knew how he thought, and in that moment she felt everything that he was feeling. “Before you ask, I promise I had nothing to do with it, she told me a few weeks ago she wished for you to be the first knight of a new era and now is the time to make it happen.” Sansa rolled her eyes with a smile, predicting what his next question would be.

But all Podrick could think of was he was to be a knight, a _ser_ , and Sansa had not had a hand in it. He had earned it on his own, Brienne felt that finally after all those years together on the road that he was finally worthy. _The first knight of a new era_ – it only dawned on him after a moment of reflection what that meant, what an honour that was to be. Brienne had planned it, and Sansa had kept her secret, all for him, and what an honour it would be.

“Seven hells!” Podrick explained, his vocal chords finally springing into action.

His smile matched hers as he drew her back into his arms, his hands grasping onto her like his life depended on it, lifting her up slightly to pull her even closer. In his ear Sansa chuckled at his outburst, her hands playing with the hairs at the back of his neck as she was wont to do. To Podrick the best thing about the announcement was seeing her smile, hearing her laugh and feeling the pride she had for him. To think that he had thought she had summoned him there to end things between them… 

“Honestly Sansa, I thought you were bringing me in here to end things. You looked so stern when you saw me.” He grinned at his own stupidity, shaking his head at his foolish thoughts.

“Oh.” In an instant Sansa pushed away from him, her smile fading from her face. “Why ever would you think that? You know how I care for you – besides, you should know by now that I don’t feel comfortable showing my emotions in public. I wanted nothing more than to hug you and tell you how proud I was the moment I saw you.” She spoke candidly and bashfully, uneasy about announcing her thoughts as she always had been, even to him.

With Sansa, he knew how she felt without needing to speak, she showed her feelings through touch, through careful expressions. It was not that Sansa was emotionless or cold, in fact Podrick knew her to be anything but, she just hid herself away, hoping that he and the others she let herself be close to understood what they meant to her. Podrick should have know better, he knew her so well but yet again he had jumped to conclusions, let his own doubts interfere with the truth. 

He grimaced, his fingers loosening their grips on her waist but his hands remained there. “I  know…I just –“

“- you were just being you, just being Podrick. Maybe _Ser Podrick_ will be a little more confident in my coldness.” Sansa interrupted, teasing him with a smirk.

It was a dance they had done a thousand times, for he was perpetually self doubting and she was mostly unaffectionate. They both knew that him becoming a knight would not stop that issue, it was something they would be challenged with for the rest of their lives but perhaps it would get better, maybe he would start to see himself as worthy of her. Anyway, Podrick had concluded that if that was their only issue then they were very fortunate. 

“You can’t believe it, can you?” Sansa smirked as she broke away from him, crossing over the room towards her dressing table.

“No – not yet.” He sounded dumbfounded, watching as she carefully untied the ties around her neck, allowing herself to breath more freely with the slight opening of her dress. The winter had yet to hit the capital hard, and there was still a heat in the air that crept up on unsuspecting citizens. It was a comfort, a reminder of the city that King’s Landing once was and a distraction from their icy past. 

Sansa spoke with her back towards him, pulling off the rings she had been wearing, along with the necklace she always wore, her symbol of power. “I knew you could do it – although I suspect you should have been knighted long ago. It’ll make things much easier now.”

Podrick sighed at the thought, somehow finding his way towards her bed and falling down upon it with the decorum only her lover could do. While he did not believe her words, he was grateful she spoke them for if anything it conveyed her trust in him, her love. She was right about it being easier though, a knight could court a lady openly, it had been done before – perhaps not with a lady of such a high status – but it was possible, it was not unheard of. Although, he supposed she was not to be a lady anymore, and a knight and a queen would be an entirely different matter.

Sansa would make a great queen, he was certain of it, he felt it with ever fibre of his being. She loved her people, she was just but not overly kind, she was intelligent, she knew politics. She was every bit her father’s daughter, and she was just like Brienne had told her Lady Catelyn was. She was perfect, the greatest option for the North, and she would lead her land to prosperity that the North had not seen for hundreds of years. 

“You’re to be a queen.” Podrick’s voice broke through the silence that had fallen upon them, questioning and apprehensive at what the conversation might bring. 

“Yes, I suppose I am. The Northern lords will have final say but I suppose I will get it.” Sansa turned, her expression back to being unwavering. If she could sense his unease she did not want to address it, but Podrick felt he had to, it needed to be discussed. 

This development changed things, and it changed things greatly. Moreover, it would change them, it would change their dynamic and the time they would spend together. There was a new pressure now, a need to lead and set an example, to run not just her people but a kingdom. She needed heirs, she needed someone who could support her, and mostly she needed someone who could live with the pressure of being a leader, someone people looked up to. All these issues had already been there, but the moment she became a queen they would be magnified twice over and Podrick was not sure where he stood in relation to them. If they were to marry, he would be her consort, with some title he was not even sure yet what it would be; If they were to have children they would be princes and princesses, they would grow up knowing that they would have to lead in a way that a lord or a lady did not need to practice. Her coronation would rise them both to a status they had never thought of, heightening everything in an instant, changing things entirely.

“Does this change things?” His eyes met hers, urging her to speak with him sincerely. “Honestly?”

Sansa had the habit of downplaying issues, sweeping them away with a promise that it would be alright and an unyielding confidence that she could achieve it. It was comforting, it made him feel loved and protected but he was not in the mindset to blindly believe at that moment. Podrick felt like his life was starting a new chapter, and new adventure that would be even greater than the one before, it felt like a new beginning, a new start and he wanted desperately to start it with a clear idea of what was going to happen.

Sansa smiled slightly as she considered his words and her eyes grew unfocused for a moment as she thought. Evidently, she had not given much thought into what that would mean, what it would _truly_ mean, although he was certain she had planned ahead. Sansa knew want she wanted, and she knew how she would have achieved it, but she had not considered the affect it would have on the both of them, and whether they both wished to go through with it.

“No – at least I don’t think so. If anything, I believe it will relieve some of the pressure. I will be a queen, their queen, it would be treason to go against me. Then, you’ll be a knight of course, that’s surely alleviates the situation.” Sansa spoke with the sureness like the queen she would shortly be, believing her words thoroughly. Her eyes met his worried ones and following the briefest of smiles she strode over to him, her hands reaching out to his which he readily met. Sansa’s grip was strong, a firm reminder of her love despite her cool exterior, and Podrick found all his tension unravelling at the touch.

“But, even if it doesn’t help, even if it’s still as difficult as we imagined then we will fight it.” She continued, her eyes boring into his, imploring him to believe her. “I’ll say it again Podrick, I will fight for this, I don’t care about reputation or silly tradition – that’s if you plan on coming back North with me.”

Even though she did not show it, Podrick sensed her trepidation, he could feel it in her hands and could see it behind her assertive eyes. She was scared of him leaving – or staying, for that matter - just as he was scared of her leaving him. Truthfully, Podrick had pondered the matter in much detail but had not found his answer, so much was wavering on her response that he had been unsure how he would act if he was pushed to make a decision. However, from her touch, from her words, Podrick had made up his mind, and there was not a thing that would get him to change it. 

“Of course, I am.”

Sansa let out a smile at his words, moving closer so that she was hovering above him, her arms coming up to rest around his neck. There was a sadness in her smile though, a sadness Podrick did not understand but he was quickly made aware of.

“Brienne is staying – Bran has asked her and Jaime to be kingsguards and they have accepted.” There was a nervousness to a voice, almost as if she had been avoiding even thinking about the matter.

“Oh.”

That changed things, or at least it made it harder. Podrick would be forced to choose, and honestly he did not know his answer. It was not in his heart to leave her side, it would destroy them both, it would break him utterly and completely, but he did not know if he had the nerve to do so. Brienne was all he knew, and before that it was Tyrion, who coincidently would also be staying in the capital. To leave them would be to leave his life, to entirely start afresh and do so on a risky relationship. For the first time in his life he would be carving out his own story, making his own actions, being a man he hoped he would be proud to be, and the thought was altogether daunting.

Likewise, it was undeniable that the capital would be a better option for him. He could rise up the ranks, he could come into fortune, perhaps even get a more formal title, it was the smartest move for him to stay and he would be lying if he said he did not consider it. He grew up properly in King’s Landing, he killed a man for the first time outside its walls, he first laid with a lady in one of its many brothels, he had many fond memories there – it would be an honour to see it restored to its former glory and to have a hand in doing so. 

Yet it only took one glance up at her to know what he needed to do, to understand the one thing that would ever make him truly happy. It was her, it always had been her. He had followed her around the country, he had risked his life for her and he would do it over and over again if it resulted in keeping her in his life. No, Podrick would never be happy without her in his life and if he had to leave everything he had ever known to go with her then he would. He loved her, and she loved him, nothing else mattered, not truly.

Detecting her continuing distress, Podrick displayed the wide smile he knew she loved, the smile that was only reserved for her and one that he was sure made him look like a jester. The hands that had been resting on her skirts found her solid figure below them, gripping onto her in a bid to show her he was not going to let her go easily.

“I plan on being by your side until the day I die.” Podrick whispered, causing Sansa to blush almost instantaneously at his words. 

He thanked the gods he could think of something romantic and well-thought out, and it seemed to be a talent of his. Podrick was a man of many words, some stupid, others unimportant but he always knew what to say when the time was right and he did so miraculously and with little contemplation. It had always been a gift, he always knew how to reassure but he did not know where it came from or how he grew to have it. 

“You sound like one of those silly romances I used to read.” Sansa groaned but he knew she was not complaining, that his words had more meaning to her than she chose to let on.

Sansa did, however, lean down and kiss him, solid and tender, like she wanted to tell him everything she was not saying aloud. Pod smiled into the kiss, feeling like for once everything was right in the world, like he could take everyone on head first and come out victorious in the end. They would work, this would work and it they both would do everything in their power to ensure it would happen.

Placing one last soft peck against his lips, Sansa pulled back from the man in front of his, her hands stroking his hair as she took in the sight of him for just a moment. He wondered what she was thinking of, what was going through that brilliant mind of hers, and he hoped that it was filled with thoughts of him, just like his. Suddenly, her eyes became determined, as if she had decided on a matter, and she narrowed her eyes in thought.

“Now, let’s go find you something to wear more fitting for a knight…and perhaps get you to wash your hair.”

With that she pushed away from him completely, walking across the room towards the door like a woman on a mission, his spell on her completely broken. Gone was the girl who liked to hear romantic words, in her place stood a queen, a woman strong and unyielding, who Podrick knew would surely be the death of him.

Podrick chuckled to himself as he pulled himself off of her bed, trudging after her as he suspected he would be doing all of her life. He had a knighthood to receive, and as much as he was reluctant to spend the day finding the perfect wardrobe he knew it was a must. If he was to marry the Queen in the North, he certainly couldn’t be remembered for looking shabby as he became a knight.

* * *

In the devastated throne room, shortly before dinner that night was to commence, Podrick Payne, clad in his finest clothes and clean hair, became a knight and it was the grandest moment of his life, one that he would remember for years to come. Everyone who mattered to him was there, Gendry had clapped him on the back, Tyrion had smiled, Bronn had sent him a sarcastic grin that everyone could see was real. Brienne beamed at him like a proud mother, and certainly she was, although not in the traditional sense. She had taught him everything he knew, she had taught him how to be a man, and the bond between them would be forever unbroken. _Sansa_ … 

Everyone saw the way he looked at her as he rose a knight of the Seven Kingdoms, the look filled with satisfaction and accomplishment, filled with love and promises of what was to come. Everyone saw how she returned his gaze, poised as always but with a slight smile and tears in her eyes, there was no denying her feelings. In that look, the connection so public and unapologetic, there was an underling message that only they could understand, that this was it, this was what they had wanted, and they were going do everything to be together, neither of them caring who knew or what people thought; It was time to do things properly, to show the realm how much they loved each other, to fight for each other, to fight  _for them_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I'm sure you are sensing, a conclusion to this story is quickly approaching :( but who knows - maybe there will be a sequel?
> 
> In case that last line did not make it clear enough, from now on Podrick and Sansa are not going to hide their relationship...finally.
> 
> Also, yay Arya/Gendry having some kind of reconciliation.


End file.
